But Wear the Chain
by Elsie girl
Summary: Hermione completes her last year at Hogwarts, studying under the war hero Severus Snape, keeping her hopeless interest in the mysterious man to herself, along with her other struggles... until one night when she arrives for detention and hears something she never expected: "I want you." Opps, love potion accident. Image from Thanks for reviews! Image from siriusbarks.
1. Want

A/N: Hello, dears! Thank you for giving this story a shot. I wrote a Dramione fic a while back, Stolen, but this is my first writing of HG/SS, and it's my first M. This will be rated M, so you've been properly warned. I love Snape, so I'm excited. It may also contain other pairings, not sure of who yet, so feel free to make requests. Unusually for me, it's a post battle, 8th year set story where Snape survived, obviously. I beg your indulgence as this is something I jotted down because I couldn't get it out of my head, it's not been thoroughly edited. There will likely be some errors. Sorry! I'm not good at continuing without readers, so if you'd like to see the next chapter, please leave a review. I welcome any and all thoughts/comments/questions &amp; suggestions. I listen. I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'd never dare claim Harry Potter as my own nor make any money from this story. The world rightfully belongs to JK, which just about anyone could tell you.

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**But Wear the Chain**

"The hope, the fear, the jealous care, the exalted portion of the pain,

the power of love I cannot share, but wear the chain." -Byron

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Chapter One: Want

* * *

She walked towards the dungeons with her heart in her throat, as they say, wondering if that was physically possible, given magic. It was a line she always wondered about—where magic stopped and muggle physics took over. After all, her chest felt empty and it certainly was hard to swallow. Her heart could definitely be there.

The feeling was typical of students heading down to professor Snape's dungeon as the shadows grew longer and darker. It was the student, in this case, that was not typical. Hermione Granger did not get detention.

She had been distraught over the possibility that it might revoke her Prefect status. Of course, Headmistress McGonagall had assured her that even prefects were allowed to make mistakes. Ron had wondered at her ability to even be bothered by such things, consumed as he was with trying to not fail out of auror training.

"I don't see how even you can pay attention to all that theory and book rubbish, not now that we've had a taste or real fighting." He had told her one afternoon at Harry's—Grimmauld Place. She tried to conceal the grimace she felt at the memory of 'real fighting', as he put it. If her friends had any idea how much the violence physically sickened her, they'd be embarrassed.

They boys both seemed exhilarated in the midst of it, like Remus and Sirius. At first, she thought it might be because she was a female that she could not set aside her anxiety to feel the rush—feminine instincts and all that. But Ginny and Tonks didn't feel sick at the sight of it, didn't seem to be screaming internally for it to end every second. And the more she saw violence, the more sensitive she grew to it, not less. She didn't even like to step on worms or smash spiders anymore.

"Auror training is _so_ much more challenging. We could really use your help." Ron had whined at the table as the trio shared lunch.

Shaking her head clear, she had snapped at him, "I told you the attrition rate is ghastly, Ron. It's not considered a challenging program if everyone can complete it."

"Honestly, it's not as if you even needed to finish school, Hermione. They would have given you whatever job you wanted." He continued.

She was careful in her response. She knew Harry didn't want her to think he'd taken a position he had not earned. "I _want_ to finish school, Ronald, and fighting in a war may qualify one for politics or auror career, but I'm not fond of either of those at the moment. I want my options open." Yes, mostly because she had no idea what she wanted to be.

"Whatever. You could have trained for whatever you wanted, apprenticed. You already know all that school stuff."

"Not at all! There is so much more to learn than you realize." She had given up convincing him and returned to face her punishment: detention with professor Snape.

It was not just humiliating that she had landed in detention as Hermione Granger, prefect. It was humiliating that she, an adult, a veteran of the final battle, and a nearly intellectual equal to the man, was being punished like a child.

She deserved his anger, though. She had corrected him. No, she had corrected him_ in front of his students_. It had been entirely accidental; she'd spoken instinctively before she had realized what she'd done. He'd simply misspoke one ingredient for another. She immediately covered her mouth, tried apologizing profusely. He had been eerily calm, but merciless.

However far they'd come since the battle- healing in the infirmary, grieving, new found fame, understudy to him on his research project- was gone, she feared. His eyes on her were cold as they had ever been, but she was not nervous because like the other students she trembled under his glare, well, not in the way they did.

Hermione had always taken up for the potions master. She had always been inclined to trust him and was even defensive of Ron and Harry's accusations that he was 'greasy'. She knew enough to know he was a gifted, brilliant potions master who could make far more than he did as a teacher.

The way he had shielded them with his body, ready to be torn to pieces by a werewolf in third year made her feel safe. No one had ever done anything like that for her.

She noticed, as she matured, his deep and silky voice, his strong figure, and his piercing eyes. Her friends thought she always looked away from because she felt uneasy around him. Truthfully, she did not want him to _ever_ read her thoughts. Many girls had crushes on male teachers, but no Gryffindor would ever admit a crush on the head of Slytherin house, except maybe Ginny who once said he was surprisingly buff. Luna had credited Snape his incredible voice once, making Hermione cock her head curiously. Ron quickly reacted with mature gagging sounds, but Hermione still felt a flutter of hope. Maybe she was not mad for seeing something in Snape.

That much soon became apparent. The way he had followed Dumbledore's last order, though it tore him apart… the way he loved Lily, and even Harry as her son…was the most noble thing she had ever seen. He was brave too, ready to die for the cause. He was strong, to be able to be a spy all that time, withstand all that torture she knew now would break her.

He was dark and handsome and lonely, as lonely as she was at school with no friends, no peers, no one who understood her, who would forgive the real her if they knew.

She wanted him. It was simple as that, really. She knew he could never love her, could never let go of Lilly whether out of love, loyalty, or guilt. It didn't stop her need to be near him.

Maybe, she told herself, that was why she fixated on him since the battle. Ron always frightened her with his emotions; she knew he wanted something desperately she would never be able to give him, even if he didn't know it yet. Severus, that is Snape, would never want anything from her. He would never want her. Therefore, he was the safest person for her to want because she could never fail him.

She tried to clear her mind before she entered, taking a deep breath, as Harry had taught her.

When she knocked and entered, the potions master was not behind his desk as usual. His office was in the pristine condition it only had when it was not in use. He tended to make a mess of things when he worked, either over books and parchment or a cauldron as she'd seen working under him a little in her final year, but always left things perfectly tidy when he was finished. They had that in common, though she had never mentioned it to him. He of course had not noticed, she assumed. Even he had, he would not have commented. They did not speak when they worked together on his research unless they needed to speak.

He was looking out the window, his black robes open on a buttoned-up white collared shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the ripple of his muscle there, the veins, the black hair, and the dark mark. He had showered recently, she noticed because though his hair was dry he still smelled of shampoo. His black pants fit him _very _well.

She lowered her eyes instinctively as his head whipped in her direction. His dark, piercing eyes, like looking into a pair of wells, were on her. She could not look away though she tried to keep her head down. His expression changed to one of surprise.

"Sir?" She asked.

"Miss Granger?" He seemed confused as to why she was there. His confusion concerned her. It was not like him to forget.

Whatever his thoughts were, he seemed to find them and looked her very pointedly in the eyes. He looked…determined. She felt a chill. She wished he would stop boring into her eyes. She was no occlumense. He was going to see.

He folded his arms against his wide chest and deep voice resonated from it. She could feel the voice as well as hear it. In the air it was as soft as mist wrapping around her, very quiet, but it vibrated through the solid surfaces and it made her knees mimic the movement.

"You wanted me at 8 o'clock?" She asked, wondering if she had intruded, mistaking the time.

"I wanted you?" He arched an eyebrow. Was he mocking her? She quickly burned with anger.

"For detention." She said through her teeth.

He let his hands drop. Those hands. She had watched them work. It was alright for her to stare then, to observe his methods. They were like hands in a painting, like something Michelangelo would make. She forced her eyes up.

It was hard to catch his smirk; it was mostly in the eyes. She narrowed hers.

"No." He said.

"No, sir?"

"You're wrong."

"You don't want me for detention then, sir?" She was ready to leave if he was going to play mind games, tying knots in his stomach.

"I do not want you…"She was already turning. She had no right to be hurt by those words. "For detention." He finished in a whisper.

She swallowed, slowly turning away. She frowned as if working out a difficult arithmetic problem, trying to convince herself she'd misheard. "Sir?"

He took a step forward. Though he was tall, it was not threatening. "I want you." He said simply.

She knew then she had gone mad. She closed her eyes. It had finally happened. She almost wished she'd hear it still, hanging in the room lit only by the dwindling light from outside as night set in.

"I want you." Her eyes flew open. He was closer. She stared intently at his lips. She needed to make sure she was hearing correctly, that he was not asking her if she was alright as she had auditory hallucinations.

Slowly, he said it again and this time she allowed herself a small gasp. "I want you." She searched his face. Was he capable of such a cruel joke? "Of course," he began, glancing at the floor, "I understand if you cannot force yourself to see your potions…"

She was not listening. He sounded _almost_ himself. No, Severus Snape would get no petty joy from torturing a schoolgirl with her emotions. Then again, Severus Snape would never be inappropriate with a student—betraying Albus Dumbledore's trust in his original appointment!

"Sir," Said Hermione sternly, attempting to shatter the moment and return to painfully lonely reality. It did not work. The air was still thick as he tilted his head in curiosity. She struggled to focus. "Isn't there something forbidden about teacher student relationships?"

"Indeed." He answered as if that settled that. Hermione felt her body relax a bit. But then she saw it return, that smirk in his eyes. He was even closer then, but she did not remember him moving. "But I don't really give a damn."

"What?" She balked. This time she saw him take another stride forward. She jumped back a little, the desk behind her hitting the back of her legs just below her skirt. Nothing about this moment made any sense, and that was not something she knew how to handle. She shook her head, frustrated. "But," she sputtered. "But why not?"

"Because," He said softly his form suddenly a foot from her own. "I want you so badly."

She felt her knees go, but thankfully the desk caught her. She tried to formulate the proper response. She was not sure if that response was to yell at him, scream and run away, articulate an actual question, or tell him to have her right then if he liked. It was very, very difficult to think. Her head felt swirly and …buzzy. She vaguely wondered if Luna might be right about those stupid nargles when she felt his chest rumble inches from her. "I need you, Hermione."

His hand reached out for her, but did not dare touch her until she made some sign of consent. That's all it took. Almost as if watching herself, she hopped up. She didn't even have time to see his face before she felt his warm lips press against hers urgently.

She had kissed Krum, well, lots of times, and it gave her a thrill of butterflies, but it was rough, his stubble bristly. She had actually kissed Fred once when he had been drinking and his younger brother had been being a dimwit over Lavender Brown. Fred had told her his brother was stupid, wiped her tears, told her she was beautiful and kissed her. It was wetter, gentler, and he had, well, technique, skill even if he did taste like firewhiskey. They had both agreed never to tell anyone. Then, there was Ron. He wasn't so wet as Fred nor so rough as Krum, but he was sloppy. At first, it was passionate with years of suppressed desire, but as time went by it was… well, selfish.

Snape kissed like a man. A man who wanted something and knew what it was, but he wasn't selfish about it. He held her tightly against him and the table with one large hand on her waist, but took care not to hurt her. The other hand rubbed up and down her opposite forearm, brushed her neck, cupped her chin, clutched her hair. Hermione's eyes were closed, the room dark. She all but melted against him, not trusting herself to stand. All her senses were gone except touch.

He murmured, lips close to her ear. "I love you." And that's when her eyes flew open. Something within her tore, like a muscle. She felt the pain before she could recognize it.

What was happening was not really happening.

No, it wasn't a dream. It was worse. "Professor," She managed between his kisses along her jaw.

"Hmmm?" He asked, unbothered by her use of his title. Snape would have been.

"Have you had a drink tonight?" He looked her in the eyes, his own so unusually emotional. She forced her reactions in check.

"I am not drunk."

"But you had drink, didn't you, right before?"

"I have no intentions of going any further…"

"I'm right, though, aren't I?" She was thinking clearly, finding her feet stable enough to stand on again. "Please, sir." She put a hand on his chest.

"What's wrong?" He sounded upset.

"Nothing." She assured him. "Nothing. I want you too; I just ... need to do something. I'll be right back." She kissed his cheek, trying to keep him calm as she inched away from him. "Promise me you'll stay here, Severus." She tried to make his name come off her tongue smoothly.

He nodded, concern not leaving his face. She backed to the door. "And promise me something else," She added as she slipped through the door.

"Anything."

"Promise me you won't hate me."

He shook his head once, frowning, arms crossed again. "I will never hate you." She sighed, choosing to believe that.

As soon as she was in the cool hall of the dungeons her face came alive with heat. The blush was red, not pink, the strongest she had ever felt. She didn't want anyone to see it, but by the time they saw her, they'd think she as flushed from running. She sprinted as fast as she could through the castle to the Headmistress' office.

"I need to see Professor McGonagall." She gasped out as she saw professors Flitwick and Sprout standing outside her office.

"Well, I'm sorry that's not possible at the moment, Miss Granger." Sprout informed her.

Hermione felt her heart drop to her knees. The organ was getting a work out, but her knees had been through the wringer.

"But I need to see her!"

"She's taking care of important school business. Perhaps one of us could help you with—"

"No! Sorry, no thank you. It's –it's personal. And it's an emergency." The two teachers exchanged a look. Clearly, they weren't quite convinced, but Hermione Granger was not one to make a fuss over nothing. Whatever meeting the headmistress was in must have been important.

But Hermione _needed_ through that door. Thinking fast, she blurted. "Please! I think professor Snape has been poisoned."

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A/N: Well? Do you know what's she's on about? Hope you liked it. Again, thanks for reading, and please leave a quick review! Will post more soon if you're interested in a rather uncomfortable conversation...

Also, if any of you artists out there are interested in making a cover image for this fiction, I'd be very grateful.


	2. War

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

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Chapter Two: War

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_The two teachers exchanged a look. Clearly, they weren't quite convinced, but Hermione Granger was not one to make a fuss over nothing. Whatever meeting the headmistress was in must have been important. _

_But Hermione needed through that door. Thinking fast, she blurted. "Please! I think professor Snape has been poisoned. _

"He's alive!" She quickly added. "But—but, it's a love potion." She finished defeated. They had to blink first, of course, in shock as they were, but it only took that space of time before they were pulling her into the office.

"Headmistress, it seems we have an unusual predicament which demands your attention." The herbology professor managed to announce their purpose almost cheerfully. Her smile was nervous as she indicated the student whose arm she held. Hermione squirmed a little in spite of herself, her eyes shifting under her former head of house's stern look.

Minerva gave a single curt nod. "Very well. Mr. Havish, we will continue our conversation later."

"Yes ma'am." The boy seemed all too eager to escape his conversation with the Hogwarts Headmistress.

As soon as they were alone, McGonagall rounded her desk, allowing her face to fall to concern. "Miss Granger?" She inquired. "What's going on?"

"Well," Hermione tried. She knew she did not have much time left.

Minerva understood. "Perhaps if you leave allow us a minute." Sprout nodded in understanding and she and Flitwick retreated.

Soon, she and McGonagall were alone in the head office. Dumbledore's painting watched from the wall, smiling. Hermione could not help but think he would have somehow found this amusing.

She did not.

"What's this about?" The older woman was through being patient, Hermione knew.

"I think that, no I'm fairly certain that Professor Snape has been slipped a love potion, headmistress."

The older woman was shocked, but recovered quickly. "I just don't understand how they did it. He's so smart and careful." Hermione held her arms at the elbows against herself.

"I take it he declared his undying love for you." The headmistress returned to her seat.

"No, that's just it." She struggled with the next part. "He didn't really _say_ much."

McGonagall's face grew stiffer, her voice went higher, the words odd coming from her and soaked in disbelief or horror. "Do you mean to say that Sev—that is professor Snape _came on to you_?"

"He had no idea what he was doing. I'm sure he'll be mortified when he realizes." The prefect laughed humorlessly, walking to a side table and examining a glass ornament there to avoid standing there, feeling exposed. "He'll be disgusted." She said where she thought no one could hear.

"Please sit down, Hermione." McGonagall's voice was soft as she indicated a seat across from her. Hermione walked to the comfy green armchair in front of the desk and sat with a slight smile. To her left, a table appeared with hit tea and biscuits. "They have a slight calming draft." Hermione nodded and sampled one, nibbling politely. The tea made it easier.

"It's brewed, naturally, by our potions master, who as you say is definitely under the influence of some potion. It is difficult to imagine who managed to escape his detection, I agree. Where is he now?"

"I asked him to stay in his chambers." She nodded approvingly.

"How long ago?"

She shrugged, "Fifteen, twenty minutes?"

"I see. What exactly did he, that is—are you alright?"

"What? Oh yes. I'm fine. He, er, kissed me. I was sort of taken aback."

She nodded in understanding. "When did you realize what was going on?"

"About a minute."

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "That is rather a long time when kissing someone."

Hermione raised her brow, saying a little defensively, "I am human." She looked at her hands, fingers rubbing her tea cup handle. She missed the headmistress' reaction.

"And you realized when?"

"When he started professing his love, I came immediately to my senses. As I said, I convinced him to stay there for the time being. I didn't see any food or beverage out. In fact, it seemed not to be using the room. He had his sleeves rolled up," She recalled, touching the inside of her arms while remembering.

"So I think he was doing something else and had just arrived for my detention. I was about three minutes early, as usual. I managed to ask him," here she looked up to catch the other woman's eyes. "If he'd just had a drink of something. He said he had, but failed to see how it was relevant. Clearly, he was not himself."

"Oh course, and I see no reason for him to be censored for his behavior so long as you are not harmed, as he was not aware."

Hermione shook her head. "Of course not. It only alarmed me how someone could have gotten it to him. He is not close to many people, and he's within the castle. He would be able to detect most things, and he's a touch paranoid."

"Indeed." Minerva agreed. "There are a few young women who have become _infatuated_ with our hero."

Hermione shook her head, anticipating where she was going. "But none of them are particularly good at potions. Also, this potion is not one we've brewed in any of our standard years. It appeared to have an aphrodisiac effect, and it forced the drinker's affection on the first person he saw, I'm guessing, so it's unusual."

"We can assume this was someone with specific intent and knowledge who successfully tainted professor Snape's private drink. Thank Merlin it was only a love potion, but why one that targets the person he sees first?" She seemed to be in deep thought, staring at her desk for a moment. "No matter. I shall discuss this with Professor Snape. You may go, Hermione." She used her familiar name again.

"Headmistress?" Hermione asked as she set down her teacup.

"Yes, dear?"

"Once you have him cured and he's completely back to himself, could you perhaps modify his memory?" McGonagall opened her mouth, clearly hesitant. Hermione cut her off gently, "If not to prevent his self-loathing, then to spare me. Class will be very awkward."

She gave the younger woman a sympathetic smile that somehow made Hermione feel worse. "I will, given his permission. Would you like me to erase this experience for you?"

"No." She objected a little too quickly. "I'd rather keep all my experiences, learn from them."

"I understand." But her tone said she did not agree.

Hermione turned to leave, wondering why exactly she did want to keep that memory.

"Miss Granger, I must ask,"

"Go ahead, professor." Hermione nodded. The question seemed difficult.

"Do you remember smelling or tasting anything?"

Hermione gulped, thinking hard. She remembered smelling his shampoo, but nothing seductive like with a well-known love potion, but she had tasted something.

"Mint." Absentmindedly, she touched her lips. Quickly, she removed her hand.

McGonagall nodded. "That's helpful. Please tell professor Flitwick to come in as you go back to your dormitory."

Hermione reiterated the message and made it back to her common room automatically. She couldn't even remember most of her journey and was surprised to find herself going up to her prefect's bedroom, past all the socializing students, the staring and all the noise.

She collapsed on her bed early, not bothering to change. There was homework waiting on her desk. She let it wait.

She supposed she had gotten out of detention tonight. If Snape had his memory wiped, he'd reschedule, not letting her escape. If he refused, he would remember she had come for her detention and would likely avoid her at all costs, let alone be with her on his own.

And somehow, knowing they'd be apart from now on, she felt more alone. She turned on her side, clutching her pillow.

Fred was gone. Remus and Tonks and Sirius and Dumbledore. Her parents were in Australia with no idea she had ever existed. They did not remember her fifth birthday at the British Museum, as she did. They did not remember her letter from Hogwarts and her first time at the train. Only she could remember her sitting on grandfather Granger's lap his last Christmas.

She was alone in her childhood, alone in her school. Harry and Ron were gone; they were moving on from the war, so why did she feel like it wasn't over, like she was waiting on something to happen?

* * *

"Professor Snape." Severus opened his door upon hearing a knock. Hermione would knock, he thought, always so polite an unassuming, well, unless she was furious. He had to look down to find the source of the voice.

"Professor Flitwick?" He tried to mask his disappointment.

"The headmistress would like to see you in her office. No problem, just needs your help with something." The short gentleman seemed happy to announce.

"Is Miss Ganger okay?" He asked, worried something had happened to her.

The question seemed to surprise Filius Flitwick. "Yes, as far as I know. You had better come." He nodded, locking his door behind him. He followed the charms professor to the head office.

"Minerva," He strode in, robes fanning our behind him. "What's wrong?"

"Please, sit down. Have a cup of tea." He blinked.

"I thought you needed my help." He was cross. What if Hermione returned while he was away? What if she thought he had changed his mind?

"Indeed." She gestured patently. "Have a cup of tea."

Ready to finish so he could go back to Hermione, he begrudgingly sat down and began sipping his tea. His leg twitched as the headmistress watched him over her own cup. "Really, Minerva, I was in the middle of something."

She raised an eyebrow. "Drink, Severus."

He touched the cup to his lips, then stopped. "There's something in it." He breathed.

She nodded. "Drink it."

He debated for a moment, but he knew Minerva was to be trusted, and he had a feeling like something was coming back to him, something he had forgotten. Perhaps he was supposed to be doing something.

He downed his tea in a gulp and looked at the nearest clock. It was nearly nine o'clock. He was supposed to with Miss Granger as she served her detention for her lack of respect in front of his class. She had no detention.

Then he recalled, she had come for her detention, and he had…he had. He buried his face in his hands. McGonagall let out a long sigh. He did not—could not- look up at her.

He could not believe the shame that burned through him. He had spoken completely inappropriately to Miss Granger. He had then cornered her and _snogged_ her fiercely.

"I will, of course," He drawled quietly, "tender my resignation immediately."

Minerva looked as if she had threw something at her head. "You will do no such thing!"

His head snapped up in surprise. "Severus, I would not hear of it and neither would Miss Granger. She quickly deduced, thanks to your teaching no doubt, you had been slipped a love potion. The information she collected helped us ascertain what potion had been used. I administered the antidote you brewed via your tea."

He rubbed his face, glancing at the wall to see Dumbledore's eyes twinkling with humor. "This is not funny." He nearly moaned.

"I agree; it is not funny."

"No, I was…never mind. Is Miss Granger alright?"

"Indeed, her main concern was that someone managed to slip you a potion that would make you fall in love with whoever you saw first."

He frowned, the full weight of that part of it hitting him. Whoever did this could have killed him. And why would they have chosen that instead? He remembered the physical effect of the potion. It was not just love, it was an aphrodisiac. His desire had been… hard to control. For a lesser man, it might even have been impossible to restrain himself. Granger, likely being very smart as usual, somehow sensed she should not resist.

"You _were_ slipped the potion, weren't you?" McGonagall asked.

"Of course." He shot at her, not hiding his disgust. "I'm not so lonely I'd give myself a strong love potion with a sexual component with no control over the subject I'd fixate in a school full of underage students."

"No you wouldn't. Did you have something to drink prior to Miss Granger's detention?"

"I—I don't recall. Things are very, blurry right before that. I will try to clear my mind, but the potion probably affected my memory. I'll survey my rooms."

She nodded, satisfied he would investigate it thoroughly. Severus sighed. "Miss Granger also asked that I offer to remove your memory. She did not want you to berate yourself or for it to impede your working relationship."

He wrinkled his face with conflict. "While I'm more than happy for her memory of this no doubt traumatic experience to be removed, I am not comfortable with my mind being molested in anyway, given my history. My experience can be a lesson to me. Miss Granger, however, has suffered enough."

The headmistress scoffed. "I doubt Miss Granger would consider it suffering, embarrassing perhaps, but nothing more."

He knew she was sparing his feelings. The girl was probably sick on her rug.

"More importantly," Severus leaned forward. "Assuming Miss Granger did not send me this in hopes I'd drink it directly prior to her detention, which would have been a poor plan, someone may have wanted me to attack a student."

"It was that strong?"

"The strongest I've felt. If I were less disciplined..." He did not finish. The woman covered her mouth.

"But who, Severus?" She whispered though they were alone. "Who could have done this?"

"I don't know. Maybe if I can find the source, but it seemed they covered their tracks. I thought the war was over."

She did not reply.

Severus Snape walked down to his quarters with his mind clear. Again, he was thankful for the arts of the mind, of his ability to clear this memory away. He had done so many things in his life, terrible things, but never, until tonight, to his students, not really. Sure, he'd thrown a few curses as his former students; he'd been hard on his current students, but never directly abusive. He had certainly never made a sexual advance towards a student. The thought made him shudder.

He turned a corner and looked out at the grounds. It was dark, but the sky was clear and starry. It always reminded him of the old man. He was not sure if that was something about Albus, his twinkling eyes perhaps, or that it had been on the astronomy tower… He shivered again, alone by the window. He watched the sky.

Albus had asked for, no, demanded what Snape had done to him. The student he was nearly engineered into attacking did not.

And of all students for it to be, it had to be the one in the castle who had suffered enough. It was the girl, no young woman who was tortured at the hands of Bellatrix, fought alongside her friends watching them die around her at seventeen, and now struggled to go back to normality, with her parents gone and her friends moved on without her. He hated to admit how much he pitied her. Pity probably sickened her as much as it sickened him.

A breeze cool and refreshing brushed his hair back from his face, flickering the torch lights nearby.

Ironically, he noted, he was also _fortunate_ that if was going to force his affections on a student it was Hermione Granger. She was an adult, both legally and mentally, so he did not feel such a disgrace. What's more, she was also smart enough to figure out what had happened and keep her wits about her. She had saved him from going too far, from losing his position and dignity, and helped set him right.

Still, he was shocked to hear her reaction, truth be told, and not much shocked Severus Snape. He knew Hermione had perhaps the biggest heart of all her friends, but her concern for her potions master was completely selfless. She had no regard for her own embarrassment, no thought to how one of the few people she trusted had crossed a line in the way he had touched her. She even wanted his memory erased because she was concerned he would berate himself for what he had done.

He shook his head, leaving his window to head back into the dungeons. He strode quickly, going over his memories of this young woman he seemed to little understand after all.

Granger's know-it-all nature and blind following of Potter had always annoyed him. It was partly because she reminded him of Lily in that he thought she was too good for her friends, too smart and full of potential for her house. Her tenderness of heart also bothered him, but for a different reason. He was afraid for her. His father, the bastard he was, had toughened him. School had toughened him. Dumbledore and even Lucius in his own way had hardened his heart. He was afraid the weight of the war would crush her. She did not belong in it.

But she was like an ant, a tiny creature carrying a load one expected to smash them, surviving even when it looked impossible, oblivious as to how easy it would be to eviscerate them.

He turned a sharp corner, lighting his wand. "Lumos."

For Snape and Harry, finding magic was a part of them had transformed their life for the better, but Granger had found herself ostracized. She was a second class citizen by birth, though she was cleverer and more talented than most of her classmates. She should have shinned, but was seen as Harry Potter's friend. Through that, she became engaged in the forefront of a war as only a child, her precious studies interrupted year after year by Potter and Riddle, as he now called him.

And now she was essentially orphaned, again selflessly protecting another. Was she foolish enough to think that she could withstand any pain?

Again, she reminded him of Lily. If Lily had never come to Hogwarts, she may still be alive. She might have never met James, no Harry to be targeted, and Severus might never have been a Death Eater being in love with a muggle, and Petunia might be such a bitter person. There was no way to know what might have been, and he had abandoned thinking of it. He knew Lily enough to say she would have it all for magic, for her son. But he wondered, would Granger? Here she was taking another year to finish school where if she were in the muggle world she'd be a normal eighteen year old girl, unscathed, celebrating with her family beginning University.

Was that why she had not pushed him away? Was she that lonely? No, she had been acting logically, surviving as usual, he told himself.

And not alone; she still had her friend Ginny Weasley. And she was seeing Mr. Weasley. She even had special permission to leave the castle to see Potter. He always thought Mr. Weasley too slow and too lazy for Hermione's industrious, studious nature. The boy had ignored her too. Had she not seen other men looked at her—Draco as someone he could never have, even professional quidditch player Krum? Or was she replacing the innovative, lively Fred Weasley with his younger red-headed brother? The potion's master had seen her admiring the twin more than once; most people had apart from Weasley and Potter.

More likely she simply put Mr. Weasley's feelings above her own. If it pleased the family that had taken her in, pleased her friends, then she would avoid any harm to their feelings. Granger might be more self- sacrificing than Potter, he thought bitterly as he slammed the door shut behind him. Though he scoffed aloud at his own hypocrisy. Had she and Potter not yelled at him for all but sacrificing himself that night after the battle?

Worst of all, he supposed he owed her in some way, if not for saving him that night, for saving him this night, or at the very least to make amends for pushing her against a desk, grabbing her waist, her face, crashing his mouth against her delicate lips in the dark empty office. He stared at the spot where it had happened, seething.

Would she forgive him?

* * *

A/N: Thank you all for reading and a special thanks for reviewing! HallowRain8687 pointed out aptly this might be best categorized as a mystery/romance. Although that wasn't the original intention, it may be indeed! I look forward to posting the next chapter **if** there's interest, so please let me know in a quick review.

I realize there was quite a lot of depressing bits on Hermione's post war character, but knowing her position after the war, I think it would be rather depressing. Don't worry; this won't be all sad at all. I've pre-written some, but I'm also open to suggestions. Please feel free to include what you would/would not like to see as well as your favorite/least favorite points in a review.

Thanks again. Yours, Elsie


	3. Words

Chapter Three: Words

* * *

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione?" Ginny asked at breakfast.

"Hmmm? Oh yes, fine sorry." The brunette stabbed a tomato with her fork.

"Is it Ron?" Ginny lowered her voice. Hermione sighed, looking out at the sea of students. So many were just strangers to her.

"No, it isn't." She answered honestly.

Ginny nodded in the way that said she was not convinced but understood her friend did not want to talk about it.

"I'm sneaking out to see Harry tonight." She grinned. Hermione almost wished to go back to talking about how she was feeling rather than hear Ginny talk more about Harry. "He's been doing really, really well in his auror training." The other girl went on excitedly.

"Of course he has; he's made for it." Hermione sipped her pumpkin juice, trying to sound pleased.

"Exactly! I can't wait to start. Speaking of, you still can tutor me next Wednesday, right? It's quidditch Thursday, and I'm the captain now, so it's a lot of work."

"It's no problem. Wednesday it is." She made a careful note in her muggle agenda.

"Thanks, Hermione. You're a lifesaver. I'd never make the grades this year if it weren't for you."

"I'm sure you would." She meant it. Ginny was bright. Despite her popularity and quidditch duties, she could have managed the curriculum, and even if she had not quite done so, Hermione doubted any teacher would have hesitated to give her a little, well, help. That is any teacher except perhaps Snape.

Ginny was still going on about Harry, but Hermione had tuned her out. She was dying to know if the potions master had agreed to have the memory removed. She had yet to chance a glance up at the staff table.

She did that now. Severus Snape looked entirely himself. But of course, he would. The man was a master of self-control, well, apparently baring magical interference...

There was a letter from Ron:

_Dear Hermione_

_Hope your detention was not too awful. I could really use some advice on potions and antidotes. I know you're busy, but maybe you could suggest a book. Yes, I'm actually going to read. Don't choke on your pumpkin juice. Nothing too long, please. We're working on physical conditioning, so I'm pretty exhausted. Write if you can come again for dinner. We miss you._

_Ron_

Hermione took the letter and headed straight to the library. She could think of a few titles off the top of her head, of course, but she wanted to find the boys the perfect book for them. She had been rather short with them last time she had visited, and she felt bad about it. It was not their fault they did not understand how she was feeling. She did not even understand how she was feeling, and she had not talked to them about it.

She browsed the potions section, scrawling down a note if a book looked promising. She eyed the size of the spines, knowing they would only skim anything thicker than her wrist.

It was a shame. There was a really thorough book that would give them everything they needed and the author was far more intriguing than she short, clipped explanations. If they did not understand the reason behind it, they'd never remember the method. There was too much for pure memorization.

So she had an idea. It would be a lot of work, but there was a spell that allowed her to transcribe. She could pick a number of her favorite passages from various books and bewitch a quill to copy certain sections. Magically, she could then insert her own notes, from memory, moving texts and writing in a different colored ink, including only what was needed to really understand. Maybe s he could even delete superfluous words and facts to keep in concise for them. She was already tugging books from the shelves, and she had that one in her room…

She barely had enough time to make it to class.

During lunch, she headed back to her room to make sure it was going as planned. There were just a few notes she could use for that specific portion, and she knew she should really ask Professor Snape. He was not just a well-known potions master. He was the Half Blood Prince. Hermione wondered if Harry had retrieved that book before the room was filled with fiend fyre.

There was a quick way to find out. She had little time left to grab lunch so she hurried down to the great hall. She chanced a glance up at the table and was relieved to see Snape had already left. Nibbling a sandwich, she jotted down a quick note to Harry.

_Dear Harry,_

_Do you happen to still have the Prince's copy of Advanced Potion Making? I'm afraid it could help me in Snape's class. I know you and Ron are busy, but if you can find it, I'd really appreciate it. I'll drop by tomorrow for dinner. _

_See you then,_

_Hermione_

"Miss Granger?" An unreasonably deep voice drawled from behind her.

"Yes sir?" She cursed her throat for being so dry as she turned to face Severus Snape.

"You have a regretfully missed a detention due to my incapacitation. I apologize. I was unwell yesterday evening."

She swallowed. "Are you feeling better, sir?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Indeed." He said softly. "I would hate for you to miss your detention, so we will resume tomorrow night." She released a sigh of relief. It seemed he had consented to having his memory removed then, she assumed. That made things much easier for her. But she had just told Harry she'd be coming tomorrow.

"Tomorrow, sir?"

"I'm sorry, does that interfere with your important schedule, Miss Granger?" He said with mock concern. She shook her head.

"No sir. I just—"

"Perhaps you give me a list of times you're available, or would it best if I canceled my classes to accommodate—"

Her face was burning with anger at him, blood boiling over. How dare he? The table was staring, and they were not alone. Some of the staff was looking on as well. Men and women she had stood next to as equals in the fight just months ago were now literally looking down at her being publically berated.

She did not even realize she had stood. "That won't be necessary." She said louder than she intended.

"I will, of course, be there whenever you _want_ me." She spat. "I only meant to inquire after the time."

It seemed to take him a moment to respond. Anyone else might have missed it. Hermione did not miss it; professor Snape had not been breathing. "Eight O'clock." He said simply.

She nodded and brushed past him. She had not meant to touch him as she passed, but she had. Their shoulders brushed one another. It was not rough, mostly robes, but it fanned the clean scent of his shampoo her way. For some reason, that only made her angrier.

She was still walking towards her next class, eyes forward, when she heard someone call her name. "Hermione!"

It was Ginny. At first, she feigned she had not heard, but Ginny was fast. Hermione finally turned as Ginny reached her. "What was that about?" The red head asked breathlessly. Her face was full of something between shock and amazement.

"I'm sick of him being rude to me." She answered honestly.

"I don't blame you," Ginny admitted. "But weren't you rude to him?" She suggested shyly.

"Are you defending him?" Hermione demanded.

"No, no of course not. I just can't believe you were…like _that_ to _him_, in front of everyone."

She huffed defeated, biting her lip. "Was it that bad? Really?"

"Oh I'm sure they will let it slide, you know, considering. But I thought you had detention with Snape already."

"Not exactly." She admitted.

"What does that mean?" The girl was not thick.

"He wasn't feeling well. Anyway, I have detention tomorrow now."

"At least." Ginny jibbed. "Are you sure everything is okay, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded and sped off to class. She would be her usual three minutes early, she knew, but she needed to be absorbed in a subject to forget what she'd done and said in front of the entire school. If Snape had been so angry with her for correcting him in front of a class, he would be furious with her for challenging him in front of all of Hogwarts.

But even Ancient Runes did not clear her mind. Her body was still reacting with anger, fingers cold and center burning, mind fickle. Usually, her tempter dissipated after a few hours even if she and Ron had a row. But this time, it did not.

After classes, Hermione followed a very careful schedule. First, she checked on the progress of the notebook she was making for Harry and Ron. From there, she penned a quick note to Ron.

_Dear Ron,_

_Detention with Snape was rescheduled for tomorrow night, so I'll have to be back by 8. Remind him about the book if he has it. I'm working on creating something to help you and Harry. It will help if I hear more about what exactly you're being required to know. I'll be there about 6:30. Miss you too._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

She went to the owlrey with both her letters, then she took a short walk down to see Hagrid, since it was Thursday. He was not in, surprisingly, and the cool air did little to clear her head. She had no appetite, she found when she returned, but had a little supper anyway from habit. The incessant chatter of the students drained the tattered remnants of her energy. Ginny was absent, focused on quidditch, Hermione supposed.

She chanced one glance up at the head table and found the headmistresses' concerned eyes on her. Hermione fixed her own on her plate at once. They were burning and threatening to water. The pity made her physically repulsed. It's not as if she minded sitting alone. It was better than when everyone had suddenly wanted to be friends with her at the start of term. She had been alone before. They were all children anyway. She pushed herself up from the table and trekked directly to the prefect's bathroom for a relaxing bath.

She allowed herself a half hour for the bath. It was the only time she allowed herself to cry either.

Warm water covered the tile, steam drifting off it, and she undressed. Bubbles began to appear, adding the relaxing scent of lavender to the room. A flick of her wand began the music. A smoky trombone and slow, steady plucked rhythm drifted quietly over the surface of the water as she stepped into it.

Hermione let out a breath as she slipped into the bath, her falling tears trailed down her body and disappeared in the warm bath. She let go, the water allowing her to float weightlessly, her neck tilted back and eyes on white ceiling tiles as the saxophone sang out.

She stopped crying fairly quickly this time, her body relaxing. She had not realized she had been so tense. A high window above let in moonlight, the only light in the room but a pair of torches on the far wall. She liked it dim. She watched her glowing pallid skin as she bathed.

A deep but rough voice told her to keep smiling. Smoothly, he insisted to keep smiling. "Cause when you're smiling, the whole world smiled with you."

Afterwards, her head ached again. She was used to it. She sipped some tea to rehydrate and took a pain relief potion when the headache did not dissipate on its own. The remaining hours of the evening were spent at her desk in her prefect's bedroom, hunched over her homework. She had a system. Tomorrow's homework was done, of course, she was working on the end of the week's assignments and the notebook she was making for Harry and Ron. She needed to make it up to them for being rude when they did not deserve it.

To be fair, Snape did not deserve her full wrath either. She was the one, after all, who decided to come back to Hogwarts as a student. They could not exactly treat her as an equal when she was in an inferior position. If she was not careful, they would not be able to have a friendship when she left Hogwarts.

Left Hogwarts. Once again, she let herself pull out the brochure of the muggle university from her drawer. She peeked at it as if it were contraband, glanced over her shoulder as if someone might walk in—and say what? Still, it felt like she was betraying something, someone. What was the point anyway? She couldn't get into a program like she wanted any way. She was not prepared; she did not have the education.

She slammed the drawer shut.

It was late when she finally went to bed, so she got a late start in the morning. Although she had been a morning person in the past, she found it increasingly difficult to get out of bed in the morning. She had to review for classes at the breakfast table and managed to get pumpkin juice spilled on her textbook.

During lunch, she actually imposed on the houseleves hospitality in the kitchens since she had to fix a part of the potions notebook she was making in her room. It was so far down to the dungeons that she realized, hurrying breathlessly onward, she was not going to be her usual three minutes early. She was going to be late.

* * *

Severus Snape had worried Hermione Granger might be awkward, nervous, or uncomfortable around him after … the _incident_. It would drive a painful stab of shame into him if she were to start at the sound of his voice or recoil from contact with him, but he had expected it. It was only fair. She must have been terrified out of her wits with his taller form towering over her, his forceful mouth on her innocent one, his stronger body pressed against her, her pinning her to the desk. She had trembled against him, he recalled through his foggy memory.

Yes, apprehension he had expected, embarrassment, even revulsion, but anger was not what he anticipated from her. Certainly, he knew she could fiery when pressed, stubborn enough to sometimes even to reign in her friends. Not unlike another woman he once knew. She had snapped at him in front of the entire great hall, brushed past him angrily.

His original plan had been to pretend his memory had been erased to make her more comfortable, but she had threw his actions in his face when she spat that she was would be there whenever he _wanted_ her.

Now, she actually had the nerve to be late to his class. Granger was never late, so he took it as a personal affront. This was the third time she had gone out of her way to disrespect him in front of his students, well other students. The first time was perhaps a slip of her over excited tongue, but since detention that was twice more. What's more, she was hostile. It did not add up with the selfless concern she had for him, her considerate reaction right after. What had changed?

As he instructed his class on their exercise for the day, he felt the sudden tug of panic: perhaps she had mentioned what transpired between them to someone else, Mr. or Mrs. Weasley or Potter. He thought she would have more discretion, but she trusted her friends, and they may have changed her attitude about the events.

Granger bustled in then, looking flushed. He ignored her completely, not just then but for the entirety of the class. He ignored her raised hand, her work. Only when he had dismissed the class for the day did he acknowledge her presence, waving her towards him. He sat behind his desk as the room cleared, making a note he need not record.

He knew she was there by the lavender scent, faint rose oil, and the familiar smell of parchment, library books and ink – her hands were always stained with it. He could glimpse those too. Delicate white hands, long fingers bemused from writing. Without looking up, he said, "Miss Granger, you puzzle me."

"Sir?"

He looked her in the eye, keeping his face and mind equally clear. "Perhaps you would enlighten me as to exactly what I did to earn your disrespect."

She seemed to struggle with this a moment, shifting her books in her arms and staring very hard at a bottle of powdered root of asphodel on his desk. She chewed her lip, making it plump and red. It was not the bashful look she might have given him years ago, waiting for him to speak. She was actually thinking, as if she was not sure herself.

He explained with his utmost patience: "You first corrected me in front of my class, accidentally I'm sure, and I appropriately granted you detention. You went on to be impertinent to me in the great hall, and have now been late to my class."

She looked up into his eyes, finally releasing her poor lower lip. "I assure you it was all unintentional." He raised a skeptical eyebrow. Before he could suggest that she get control of herself and her actions if she was so affected, she added boldly, "Perhaps you could enlighten me, sir, on what I've done to lose your respect."

Her tone fought itself to keep the bite out it.

He did not bother to hide his surprise. "On the contrary, Miss Granger," He answered honestly. "You are one of the few people to have earned my respect. You have lost no part of it."

She opened her mouth to speak but swallowed whatever she was about to say, replying only with a quick nod.

He dismissed her with, "I'll see you at 8 o'clock."

"Yes, sir." She was gone before her words were.

* * *

What the _hell_ had he meant by that? Hermione's shoes hit the stone floor with a firm, frustrated tap, tap, tap.

After condescending to her _and_ picking a fight in front of the school, Snape had ignored her for an entire period. This type of behavior he usually reserved for Harry Potter, for Merlin's sake! His rudeness was not terminated by the demanding wave of his hand at the end of class. She came as beckoned only to have him take her entirely off guard by having the nerve to ask her why she had lost respect for him.

It took everything in her to not snap at him. Why did he _think_ she would have lost respect for him? Tap, tap, tap. She turned towards the one eyed witches hump.

To be fair, though, she had not lost respect for him after the potion incident. It was not his fault.

After he reacted to the way she had hurled the word 'want' at him, she thought by his reaction he had remembered the incident. Now, however, he seemed puzzled as to why she was behaving this way towards him. Maybe she was correct in her original assumption that he would never have rescheduled an evening alone with her if he had recalled the event.

Her feet suddenly halted. She let out a small gasp, putting her hand to her mouth. If Snape could not remember, he might not be able to remember all the clues that point to who poisoned him! And if he did not remember being poisoned with the love potion, she certainly could not ask him if he had discovered who had poisoned him. She would have to ask McGonagall, and perhaps she herself could help. Snape had been through enough.

Her shoes no longer tapped on the soft floor of the passage way. Once in the cellar of Honeydukes, she apparated to the street in London. She hid a moment, surveyed, waited, cast a spell for protection.

The war is over, Hermione, she told herself. She knocked at 12 Grimmauld Place door, then let herself inside. "Hello?"

"Hermione!" The kitchen door opened and Ron stepped out, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Good to see you!" She was wrapped in a warm hug quickly, a wet kiss hitting her hairline. An arm around her shoulders drug her into the kitchen where Harry was wearing a white apron, lifting something from the oven.

She laughed aloud. "Oh, Harry that's very flattering."

"Shut up." He blushed. "If we want to eat I had to do something. He's certainly no help!" He jabbed an accusatory finger at Ron who shrugged and laughed. He looked nervously down at her, then let her go. She plopped down at the table. So much for her routine.

"Thank you, Harry. Need any help?" She offered.

He shook his head. "Almost ready. I don't know if it's edible."

"I'll get us some drinks." Ron offered.

"I can't stay long. Snape's rescheduled my detention for tonight. He's in a particularly foul mood."

"Why?"

Snape was still a testy subject with Ron, though Harry now revered him. She doubted either of her protective friends would be calm in receiving the news the older man had behaved that way towards him, potion or no. "Who knows? It's Snape. Anyway, Harry, you did not get that book back, did you? It would really help."

"Yeah I did actually, took forever to find in all my junk. He'll know you're using it, though."

He placed a steaming plate of something in front of each of them. "Not bad, 'arry!" Ron congratulated, mouth full of food. He was already scooping up the stew type mixture with fresh bread.

Hermione tried a bite. "Not bad at all, Harry. So tell me more about the antidote stuff you need for your training."

He shrugged. "Basic stuff. The only thing we really remember from potions is the bezoar."

"Won't forget that easy." Ron said.

"Alright, so mostly poisons and healing stuff? Shouldn't be too hard. Do you have some sort of guidebook?"

"Yeah! It's thick as—"

"We're not supposed to show anyone." Harry told her. "We're sworn to secrecy. I would show you anything, of course, but,"

"It might be spelled." She finished for him.

"You're welcome to it." He offered. She shook her head a bit disappointed. "Accio potions book!"

"Thanks, Harry!" She took the worn copy, unable to resist flipping through the heavily annotated pages.

"No problem." He shrugged, looking tired.

"Snape's not being too horrible to you, is he, Hermione?" Ron asked, worried. "I **told** you we should have told him what happened."

"No it's fine, Ron. I'm just not as interested anymore, especially not in potions." She fibbed. To his credit, Ron did not say I told you so. Feeling she had been rather self-centered in the conversation, she let Ron talk about their training, how important balance and agility were. Quidditch came in handy somehow, apparently.

The door opened and Ginny stepped in with a smile. "Hi, guys."

"Hi." They chorused. She went straight to Harry and kissed him, sitting herself in his lap even though Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Grow up, Ronald." His sister teased. "Hermione don't you have detention in a few minutes?"

Her eyes leapt to the clock and she sprang from her seat.

"I have to go." She said quickly, shoving the book in her bag. "Thanks again, Harry. I'll have something for you two soon. She you later, Ginny."

She was almost out the door before she realized she had neglected Ron. "Bye." She heard him sort of mumble. Returning briefly, she gave him a peck on the cheek. He smiled. "See you later." She said.

She could not help but notice, as she ran towards the door to apparate, that they felt remarkably like just words.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for all the reviews! I cannot tell you how encouraging they were, but I can show you with fast updates. Thanks also to all you reading, following, and favorite-ing this story.

I do hope this longer chapter did not get boring. It was mostly just school stuff. Interested to know what you thought of Harry, Ron, and Ginny's appearances. What of Hermione entertaining the notion of the muggle school?

Cannot wait to get further into the mystery(s) at hand and, though I sound nuts for saying this, can't wait to get to that detention with Snape! If you're looking forward to the next chapter too, it would be lovely to hear from you. Just click review.

Yours,

Elsie


	4. Wounds

Chapter Four: Wounds

* * *

Hermione Granger was late again. Something was seriously amiss with that girl, Severus determined. The others seemed so dismissive of his concern. Perhaps they simply had more faith in the young woman. She was not herself, they admitted, but she would come back to herself soon enough on her own. She just needed time.

Time, Severus knew, did not heal all wounds. Some it left to fester.

By the time she was a full ten minutes late, professor Snape decided two things. First, he was not going to penalize her when she arrived. Second, if she did not arrive by a quarter after, he was going to go look for her.

A few more minutes passed during which the potions master assembled his work station and the one he intended for Granger. He dare not begin brewing in case he had to abandon it to track down that bloody Gryffindor.

At last, said lion made her appearance just shy of his mentally set deadline. Out of breath, hair flying behind her, she clamored in his otherwise silent classroom. "Sorry!" She gasped, clutching her side. "I was hurrying. I didn't mean to be late, no disrespect—"

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand, tired of her blabbering. His eyes remained fixed on the ingredients he was carefully measuring. "You are not late." He lied, a flip of his wand under his desk twisting back the hands on his clock, making her nearly on time. She was smart enough not to argue.

He found himself curious as to where she had been, but was not about to ask. The goings on of a young woman could hardly interest him, he thought resentfully. But then again, this was no normal Hogwarts student, and if something were keeping Hermione Granger from class it might very well be something of import to him, to most.

"What will I be doing for my detention, professor?" She dropped her bag and rolled up her sleeves.

"You will be helping me brew some potions for Hogwarts stores enabling me to work more on …_research_." In reality, he was testing every sample he could from his rooms in order to find the source of the poisoning. For now, he continued to pretend he did not remember her last detention for her comfort.

She nodded, accepting his vague excuse.

"You may begin with blood replenishing potion. Everything is set out." He instructed.

She picked up her bag, walked to the table, and slung the bag on the table. A book tumbled from it to the floor by his foot. He picked up the copy of _Advanced Potion Making_, but something gave him pause.

Hermione felt her eyes grow wide as she caught a flash of recognition lit the professor's face. "This is mine." He said possessively.

"Well, it was." He frowned pointedly at her, still clutching the book. Why did that look make her feel so cold? She tucked her hair behind her ear. "I got it from Harry. I was going to use it."

"Use my personal notes to do better in my class, as Potter did." It was not really a question.

She shook her head. "No, sir, not for class. I was trying to compile some things together on potions."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

She sighed. There was no point in trying to lie. She was bad at it, and he was brilliant at catching them. "I was sort of working on something for Harry and Ron."

"Working on something?" He repeated her words back to her with skepticism.

"It's a sort of guidebook. They really haven't learned enough for certain parts of their training, thanks to Voldemort."

"Riddle." He corrected gently. His expression said he could think of a few other reasons Harry and Ron had not learned the required material, namely they had not tried to learn it.

She nodded in agreement, to the name and the unspoken note. "And I was going to try to recommend some books, but they really need pieces of certain ones, so I've been copying certain sections for them magically and inserting my own notes. I thought your book might –"

"You thought you might steal my ideas."

"Not steal. You're a teacher. I'm just trying to teach them, help them with their work."

"A usual. I sometimes wonder if either of them would have made it past second year without your help. Don't you have enough work of your own to be getting on with? Or am I going too easy this year?"

"I took on too big of a project, actually. It made me late."

"I see. You can tell your friends no, you know?" He scathed, beginning to slice some slimy root ingredient she did not recognize. It must have been obscure. "And you had no intention of turning this conglomeration into a book of your own?"

She did not bother to hide her surprise. "No sir." She blinked. "I have never really thought about it."

He rolled his eyes. "Really? With your knowledge being entirely book obsessed you never thought of writing a textbook? Your name alone would sell it."

For a moment, she let the thought wash over her again and again like a wave being steadily more and more convinced she had never heard something so perfect nor so obvious.

"Professor, that's brilliant!" She grabbed his wrist without thinking, as if she was afraid she might fall. "I was trying to leave in the necessary bits and the context for them to understand but down the word count so people like Ron and Harry would actually read it all. Knowing them, I could write something geared towards students, but,"

"Miss Granger, please stop squeezing me."

"Sorry!" She released him as if stung, but her excitement did not dissipate. Her eyes fell on her potions master's dark one. Suddenly, she saw something she had never seen before. She swallowed, her excitement making her bold. "Sir?"

"No."

"But I haven't even asked anything yet, sir."

"No, but I can tell by your expression I am going to say no. Let me save your breath."

"But professor, you're one of the greatest potions masters, and your notes—I'm sure you have more than this—from years of studying, brewing, and teaching! You're an authority. And I could research and edit everything for students, since I'm so obsessed with books, as you say."

"Miss Granger, what are you proposing?" He sounded if he suspected and feared exactly what she was talking about.

"Have you written a potions text?" She asked shyly.

"And you would want to work on this with me jointly?"

"Well, not really jointly. You're the authority, but as far as a researcher editor, I think I would truly be an asset."

"Indeed, you are more than fit for the job, but have you forgotten your little side project alone has overwhelmed your time so much it has landed you in detention?"

* * *

Severus Snape thought he was being kind, or at least polite. He truly did. He had understood the two of them to be having a perfectly rational conversation about the possibility of them combining efforts to create the kind of text he had always needed but never had the mind or time for, though Granger certainly did not seem to be able to balance so many obligations at the time.

He had thought his question, suggestion really, had been gentle and fair. Clearly, he was wrong.

Of course, he only surmised he was wrong when the most shocking of all things resulted. He literally started in his seat. For a moment, he did not understand. Had she hurt herself with potions knife, been burned? Because a single beat after his simple question of her schedule being too full, Hermione Granger burst into tears.

"Miss Granger!" He tried not to yell, rounding the work table at once. "Are you hurt?"

She had small white hand clamped tightly over her mouth as if holding something inside her. He half thought she might choking, or about to be sick.

She was trying to smother the pitiful noise and pulled her face away, hid her escaping tears behind her hair. The faint sob and the hiss of salt water tainting his potion gave her away. She tried to force her body to obey, he witnessed. He could see the struggle as her torso trembled. Her own face was horrified at her outburst.

"What is the matter with you?" He demanded.

"Nothing." She dumped in ingredients quickly, avoiding his eyes. She checked her notes, stirring five times counter clockwise. Again, she was distracted as she nearly stirred too many times. He stayed her hand but released it almost immediately.

"Perhaps I should have asked you to brew a calming potion first." He quipped.

She snorted, shaking her head once. "Barely works anymore, anyway."

"Yes, I know what you mean." He said darkly. He had not realized she had needed so much calming.

"I'm fine anyway, professor. Just ignore me." She waved him away back to his work.

She surprised him by asking, "Are you feeling better, sir?"

From his work station behind her, he raised another eyebrow. She knew perfectly well he was recovered since he was not trying to seduce her so eloquently. He was suddenly able to recall his words. It seemed he had just repeated "I want you." He grimaced.

She was sniffling as she chanced a glance at him, eyes glistening. He supposed she was just trying to make some other conversation.

"I'm perfectly well now. Thank you for your concern."

* * *

Her body was like clockwork. She should be safely behind the doors of the prefect's bathroom, weeping into her warm lavender bath until she felt relaxed, listening to Louis Armstrong tell her to keep smiling. As long as she was smiling, the whole world would smile at her.

Louis was wrong. No one was smiling at her now. Certainly not Snape.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the potions master with curiosity. He was not brewing a usual potion. He seemed to be testing a number of different vials for something. She wondered if perhaps it was all the drinks from his private quarters and if he was testing for which one was contaminated. It's what she would do.

But that did not necessarily mean he recalled what happened. Naturally, the headmistress would have told him he'd been poisoned, perhaps even that Hermione had found it out and helped him in time. Is that what made him angry with her, being vulnerable or in her debt?

She knew she might be able to suggest which sample to test first, but she might also have nothing of value to impart. Admittedly, she was curious. What motivations could one possibly have to slip Snape the love potion? And who might that person be?

"May I ask what it is your researching, sir?"

"Something new." He mumbled.

She nodded, concentrating to complete the should-be simple potion. Things seemed more difficult than usual. Maybe it was as Ron said; it was hard to focus on theory and busy work when you had a taste of real life. Maybe it was as she suspected. She was slipping.

The potion that was supposed to be green, turned purple. It hissed. "No, no, no, no." She grabbed the edge of her cauldron and peered into it, as if it might sympathize. She was soaked in frustration with herself, but then she realized she was not alone, and humiliation seeped in, making her feel sick.

"Too much Valerian." Snape noted nonchalantly. "Easy mistake." Anyone else might have been relieved by Snape's lack of scolding, but Hermione Granger did not make easy mistakes. She had brewed this a dozen times before!

"Damn!" She slammed her fist on the table, making the skin sting. It was only after she unfurled the hand and stared at it as if it had acted on its own that she realized what she had done. What was he going to say?

She looked at him. He had paused mid motion and was staring at her. For a moment, they held each other's gaze. He slipped off his gloves. "Quite." He said bitterly vanishing both their potions.

"I found nothing." He clearly couldn't believe it himself. She wondered at that. If none of the samples seemed to be tainted, how did he get the potion? "A rather unproductive evening altogether; nonetheless you served your time out and may go, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, sir. Goodnight." She said as she shouldered her bag. He only nodded in return, and she left the room, heading to the bathroom. She'd summon her clothes if she needed to. She had almost offered her assistance, but she could not even brew a simple blood replenishing potion, so what on earth could she offer? She had not even the time to commit to project she had proposed, right before she'd burst into hysterics for no reason.

Severus Snape knew her the least, she assumed, of any of her teachers, friends, or members of the Order, yet he had thought of the perfect position for her—crafting books. It made sense really. She could also work with her friends, Mr. Weasley, and the muggle studies professor to work on something about muggles; it would be relevant being a muggle born who helped defeat the Dark Lord. Then, maybe she could work on something to bring about more understanding towards werewolves, dedicate it to Lupin, let people know what he had contributed.

There were so many possibilities. For the first time since she entered Hogwarts hospital wing after the battle, she could see something coming next, something to work towards. And she had Snape to thank, strangely enough.

She slipped into her bath without thinking, forgetting to switch on the music at first. She was not listening to the big band this time—her mind was busting with ideas again. It was as if it were coming back to life, cell by cell.

She sank into the water, her body relaxing letting out that breath she'd held in all day. She floated in the bath, thoughts floating in and out of her mind one face swimming to the surface again and again. Well, not exactly a face.

Severus' arms… when his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow at his workstation, were solid lengths of muscle and bone. Each slice of the knife, each stir of the potion rippled the surface as soft and white as milk. So _masculine_, she thought shamelessly, biting her wet lip. She remembered how tight his grip was on her waist that night in the dungeons as he pulled her against him. She had known he was tall, but he was also surprisingly strong.

What was she doing? She salt bolt upright, choking a little on the water. She had just been thinking about professor Snape…like _that_. The man gave her a few decent words and one idea, and she was practically fantasizing about him.

That was not like her at all. She hardly ever thought like that. Even about Ron.

Ron. With a pang of guilt she recalled she was dating him. She'd certainly be hurt if Ronald was thinking about the look and feel of another woman. And although the boy was oblivious to most interests and flirting, there was plenty of it. He was a hero, friend of the famous chosen one. There were plenty of women in public and in auror training who wanted him. She had snapped at more than one at first, but soon grew to ignore them.

Ron was not disloyal. Ginny applauded her for keeping her jealousy in line. Hermione felt she did not deserve the praise. She should feel jealous. She knew she should.

It had been different, she recalled in the safety of an otherwise empty, moonlit room, when Snape had kissed her. Sometimes with Ron she liked kissing, sometimes she felt a little flutter in her chest. When Snape took a hold of her, his eyes swallowed in lust bearing down on her, her whole body had responded. There was not a flutter like a small bird was in her ribcage; it was like phoenix on fire, wings spreading broadly. Her heart thumped too hard. It wasn't even the kiss, it was the way they were so close. She closed her eyes.

'Get a grip, Granger!' She screamed at herself.

It was no use. She was thirsty, her throat painfully dry. It was if she was drying up entirely and the only thing that would help her was the wet touch of his lips.

Good gracious that was scandalous, and a little overly romantic for her style. He was her professor and would probably dropped dead if he knew what she was thinking, and one look in her mind and he would see it. What had gotten into her?!

And then, before her mind had been entirely swallowed by the fog of the toxin, Hermione Granger had one more clear, coherent thought: she had been slipped the potion. She had to get to the dungeon immediately.

* * *

Someone knocked urgently on the door.

Severus Snape heard the incessant wrapping on his private doors as he had dressed for the evening, so he opened it and in came someone, brushing past him without asking. She was the height of Hermione Granger and smelled of lavender.

Her hair was slicked back against her elegantly, her slim white neck. It was wet.

His face fell in shock as he realized her whole body was wet. And she was only wearing a bathrobe. It was not a Hogwarts robe, but a light pink and black. Her back was pressed against the back of his settee, one leg, shining with lavender oil, peaked out from her robe. She had not realized. His eye began to trace its slender length until he noticed: it _was_ Hermione Granger.

"Miss Granger, what's wrong?" He asked levelly.

"I was taking a bath,"

"So I surmised. This is really in—"

"And all of the sudden I was just overwhelmed." She struggled as if she was having trouble breathing, clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Do you need something?" He took a step forward.

She held her robe closed, clutching at her chest. "I need," She struggled, eye glistening. "The antidote."

His eyes opened further in realization. She was trying to restrain herself. She was doing a remarkable job, he thought ruefully, compared to himself. Of course, _she_ had seen it coming.

He went directly to the shelf, then approached her with a small bottle in hand. "It's particularly nasty but," And that's when he made a mistake. She slipped as if she were about to fall and he caught her by the elbow.

Her eyes were on his, so warm and brown, so large and luminescent that he could not look away. The pupils were dilated. Her thick lashes batted slowly as she looked up at his, tiny drops of water on their tips. Her mouth was open a tiny bit, and her soft hand touched his own. He was not used to the gentleness of the contact or the way it seemed to soften him too from the inside, well mostly soften.

She pulled his hand towards her so slowly he did not even realize it was moving until his hand was on her waist. He pulled it away instantly, but she did not let go.

"Touch me." She breathed. The air was full of the scent of soap and lavender. His head swam with it.

"Miss Granger, you're not yourself." He knew how impossible it was to pull yourself back with this toxin in your veins once you got this close.

"Kiss me." Her neck reached towards him, soft lips parted.

"No." He told her as gently as possible. She stopped, looking stung. "Drink this." She eyed the vial untrustingly, then looked imploring into his eyes. He sighed. "Drink this, and I will kiss you." There, he would lie as she had to get him to cooperate.

"Promise?"

"Of course." He cupped her jaw in his hand to guide the liquid to her lips at once. Her own hand moved instinctively to his on her cheek. She swallowed, then looked up at him through her eye lashes.

It was as if a cool breeze had hit him in the face; it took a moment for the potion to work even when it was taken directly, he realized.

"You promised." Her voice cracked with betrayal, eyes welling with tears for the second time that day. It was the protectiveness that made him want to stop those tears from falling yet again. She'd had enough.

"I—" He cut off his explanation. It would do not good until she came to her senses. Her fingers closed around his hand still on her face. A fat tear glided down her cheek, wetting his chapped hand. That was it. Slowly, he leaned down, giving her ample opportunity to pull away, and pressed his lips chastely to her other cheek.

He remained there for a couple breaths where he would be unable to read her expression. Then, he slowly released her, straightened, and took a step back, surveying her.

As her senses returned, her pale skin lit up with a bright blush and her hand covered her mouth.

"Oh, my…oh no, I…." She had to sit. "Professor, I am so, so sorry."

"It's quite alright."

"No! It's not." He pretended he did not flinch a little at that. "I can't believe I did that to you." But her tone was disbelief that he was the subject, more like sympathy for him as a victim. "Please, forgive me." She looked up at him, desperate.

"Miss Granger, you are entirely forgiven." He told her frankly. "After all," He went to the bottle he had already tested and poured them both a little drink to calm the nerves. "I think it more or less makes us even." He handed her a glass, tilting his own towards her.

"So you do remember?" Her hand played with her robe, her eyes fixed on his carpet, he noticed, when she asked.

"Perfectly. I thought it might be easier on you if you believed I did not, hence why I have not apologized. You must know i—"

"I know." She said.

"Well, you could at least let me finish." He said when he recovered. She snorted a bit.

"There's something else. We're both targets too." He frowned, sipping his drink. The trickle of it burned his throat all the way down.

"It would seem so."

"And it doesn't make you go for the first person you see." He waited for her to explain. "I ran into two students on my way down here."

Well that was interesting. They were silent a moment, sipping their drinks. He noticed she did not grimace at hers, but emptied her glass. Finally, he asked, "Have you told your friends?"

She shook her head.

"Good. I do not think that would be wise."

* * *

A/N: Your response has been amazing. Each one of your reviews, follows, and favorites makes my day! Thanks so much for reading.

This chapter certainly changes things. It will take some time to reach the M rating I expect, but this potion made things a tad scandalous. Good or bad? Do you think she will tell the others? What will happen if she does?

I'd simply love it if you took a second to review and let me know what you think!

Yours,

Elsie


	5. Wise

Disclaimer: I do not own. Please see previous chapters.

* * *

A/N: Just wanted to thank everyone who has read and reviewed so far. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 5: Wise

* * *

_They were silent a moment, sipping their drinks. He noticed she did not grimace at hers but emptied her glass. Finally, he asked, "Have you told your friends?"_

_She shook her head._

_"__Good. I do not think that would be wise."_

"Why not, sir?" She asked, genuinely curious.

He did not answer then, but began pacing the length of the room.

Hermione surveyed it as he did. The room had high stone ceilings, arches, with no windows. The fire and lamps burning lit the room with a cream glow, flickering shadows across the arches and their faces. Nearly the entire stone floor was covered with a carpet. The dark green color of it she expected, but the sizable rug was lined with vines of flowers that also scrawled across it, so many that the emerald appeared more in patches in the spaces between blooms. She recognized the pink stargazer lilies opening wide among the faintly yellow roses. She did not remember the names of the other types.

The settee she sat on was the same color green but with cream-colored legs. It wasn't the fat thing she might sink into but had a small and elegant form, and it abutted the roaring fire. She leaned forward, realizing she was dripping on his nice couch. A matching wingback chair sat across from her, empty as Snape paced.

There were bookshelves, naturally, across from her but no cauldrons or bottles of ingredients. A small table held a pensieve, another matching one held a bloom suspended a few inches in the air, contained under a glass covering. She was reminded of a childhood story, a fairy tale, a beast.

A surprisingly human white bathrobe hung by a door in the corner to her right, behind the man deep in thought. A massive bed, she blushed as she noticed, with black, silk sheets and green curtains pulled back to its four posters, sat to her right as well; only a wardrobe and an oil painting she could not make out were on the wall by the bed, the same wall leading to the fireplace that warmed her back. Even in just her robe, she was not cold.

She gulped, eyes fixed on the flowered rug, wishing she had more in glass to still her nerves. She was a foot away from the professors bed, wearing only her bathrobe. She was surprised he had not thrown her out.

"I think," She said aloud, making him pause. "I think this was directed at you."

For once, he did not hide his surprise. "Why?" He asked simply.

"Well," She stared at the empty glass on her hands. "I've given it some thought, and the way I see it, there are only a few possible motives someone might have for slipping you a potion that makes you act so…erratically."

He nodded at her, one hand resting on the back of the armchair. She continued. "Well, the first is that it was simply a prank. Given the complexity and private nature of the act, I think this unlikely."

He agreed. "If Fred and George Weasley were still here, I might disagree with you. But they are the only two so devoted to chaos, clever enough to invent what I believe to be an entirely new potion, and fool brave enough to dare cross me." His eyes glimmered.

"Exactly." She swallowed hard, trying not to think of George standing alone at the funeral... "Then, there's the possibility, given the fact I was also slipped the potion and focused entirely on you." She did not look away though her cheeks felt pink. The room smelled a little like mint and little like lemon. "That someone for some reason, good or nefarious, is trying to play match maker."

He laughed, scoffed really at that, looking at his wall. He did not dignify that with a response. Not allowing herself to be insulted, she went on, "Right. Well, then I think the most likely goal of the first attack,"

At this word, his head shot up, eyebrows perked.

"Given that you likely fixated on the first person you saw and were the first target was to force you to pursue a student, thereby ruining your reputation. You have enemies who cannot get to you in the castle, but one whiff of scandal may ruin your good name, possibly even force you from Hogwarts. When they did not see or hear a response from you, they may have thought you avoided their trick, and targeted me to go after you, hoping to again ruin your reputation and standing, the only attack they dared make."

He was shaking his head. "We do not know that the first potion was _not_ specific to you." He said. Her throat went dry. She ignored it as he explained, "If it was, then it appears the goal was for me to attack you, and when that did not work, they thought to force you into a similar situation against your will. You are not without a few dangerous enemies yourself."

"Perhaps," She admitted. "But if they were able to get me a strong love potion without me noticing, certainly they could have simply slipped me a poison that would have killed me. Any," She struggled to find the right word. "_Impropriety_ between us would be a short flash of news for me, but would have much more serious consequences for you. I'm sure there's at least one reporter at the Prophet that would love to call me a tart, but it would be forgotten after the next scandal took its place. You, on the other hand could lose your position. What's more, they might have wanted to prod Harry and Ron into attacking you if I'd been stupid enough to realize you were under the influence."

"But anyone who knows you," He objected, giving up and taking his seat in frustration. "Know you are no fool." His legs stretched tiredly before him, his arms and back collapsed into the chair comfortably. His posture was defeated, but his sleeves were still rolled up she noticed.

He saw her staring. She averted her eyes, but he had already shoved them down, covering the mark first. She wanted to tell him that's not why she was staring, but she did not dare.

He spoke, his face looking as though it was not easy. "You mentioned Potter and Weasley."

"Harry and Ron."

"You are, forgive me, _seeing_ Mr. Weasley, are you not?"

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Given their reputation, I think it is far more likely someone targeted you." She was baffled. "Someone sought to force an end to your relationship by tricking you into an affair with someone I daresay your current boyfriend finds abhorrent."

She had not thought of that, but it wasn't impossible.

"As you said," He continued, summoning the bottle to replenish his glass. "Why not kill you if they could get to you? Love potions are far more often used by females than males."

"That's true," she admitted, refusing the bottle of amber liquid he offered. She wanted to stay clear headed, even if she was in her bathrobe on the potion master's private couch, feet from his bed, and dripping wet. At least she wasn't drunk. There, she could retain a little respect for herself. "But it still doesn't make sense to target you first. Ron would not break up with me if he thought you were to blame. He'd only attack you."

"But it's unlikely," He argued. "That whoever did this knew precisely how it would work, how strong a desire it would create. Any idea what you drank?"

"Nothing!" She stood, having to do something. His eyes were on her as she returned her glass to its proper place. "I haven't had a sip of anything since I left Harry's hours ago. I came straight to detention, and from here I went to take a bath."

"Is it possible you stopped anywhere on the way? Went to your common room?" He stared hard at the flowering patterns on his rug.

"No." She said with certainty. "I remember going straight there and even thinking I'd have to summon my change of clothes.

"Which you clearly forgot to do." He shot her a quick sideways glance, his voice as dark as his eyes.

"Well," She pulled the robe closer around her now drying body. "It was rather urgent. I wanted to get to you before it took too strong a hold, and I wasn't thinking clearly."

"No need to explain yourself, Granger. I have experienced the exact effects of the potion." She wondered for a moment if he had thoughts about her the way she had about him in the moments before she had disturbed him. She nearly snorted at the thought. What would he fantasize about? Her plain face or frizzy hair?

"I think it was in the bath!" His head spun towards her as she exclaimed. "I don't think we did drink it, which explains why none of your food and drink samples tested positive!"

He stood, glowering at the floor.

"Is that bad?" She asked.

"Very." He replied, looking at her in a way she did not recognize. "That means this person is more skilled than I thought and – is it fair to say this was part of your routine?"

She took a sharp breath in, "Yes. And I always us lavender."

He took a few steps closer to her. "Did you see anyone on your way?"

"No, but I always use the same bathroom, and," She hesitated.

"And?"

"And I play music sometimes, to relax." For some reason, this embarrassed her, but he only gave a curt nod. "Someone must have known, maybe heard me."

"Did you tell anyone your plans this evening?"

"Everyone knew about my detention, remember? But we can rule out Harry, Ron, and Ginny."

"Why Miss Weasley?" He asked curious.

"Well," Hermione admitted with a shrug. "She was with Harry when I left."

"I still think it unwise to tell them at this time."

"Why?" She repeated.

"Whoever did this, why ever they did this, they are waiting for a certain reaction from one of us. They have predicted our behavior so far, so they will predict you will tell your friends. Until we know their goal,"

"But," She shook her head. "If what they wanted was a reaction and the got none, won't that force them to try again? We were very discrete about the first incident, but if they see no evidence of my drugging, it might cause them to strike again, waiting for whatever was their desired result."

"What are you suggesting?"

"What if I faked the effects of the potion," She stared at the floor. "For an audience?"

"Absolutely not."

"But, sir,"

He held up one hand, gently. "Miss Granger," His voice was soft. "Humiliating and degrading yourself will not be necessary nor will it believed. The substance reached you this evening, so waiting until daylight to show the effect will reveal you are faking. We will just have to be careful instead. I will tell the headmistress what has happened, and you will not stick to a schedule."

"They'll find a way to get to you." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Or to you."

"There may be another way to deter the next attack." She looked at him. "I know you did not want me to speak to my friends, but if I let it slip to Ginny, I'm sure word would get back to whoever was behind this."

Snape crossed his arms as well, his chest swelling with a deep breath. "Perhaps, but it may also get back to Potter and Mr. Weasley. Hogwarts gossip has never obeyed the school borders any more than Mr. Potter has."

"Well," She searched the floor, nodding as if to convince herself she was asking the right decision. "If you're right and I'm the target, they may get the reaction they are hoping for, and if I'm right and you're the target, they will be dissatisfied that nothing happens to you."

He looked into her eyes. She kicked herself for glancing away instinctively.

"Are you ready to deal with the consequences?" His voice was so close she could feel the vibrations again. She nodded. "In the meantime, you will deviate from your routine as much as possible in case you are being followed." He told her.

"And you?"

"I can look after myself."

"And I can't?" She demanded angrily, then before he could respond added. "You don't even know how it go to you yet!"

"Fair enough, but if I am right, you have already saved me from any harm."

Suddenly he seemed to be standing very close to her. "And if I'm right and you're the target? They will be frustrated. They will try again."

"Then they will try again." He sighed. "I had rather thought frequent attempts on my life were behind me."

"What if you were to start a rumor that you were under investigation, through McGonagall?"

"Clever. It may work to deter whoever this is, if I am their target, but only delay. Ultimately, I would rather goad them further into the open on the chance I can discover them before they reach me, which I believe is a rather a good chance." He walked to his door. "You should probably get back to your room. It is late."

Despite the scandalous environment in which they had spent the last half hour, she had barely felt self-conscious until he stood politely with the door open, one arm behind his back. "Yes sir." She nearly curtseyed, feeling ridiculous. "Thank you for the antidote."

"One moment." He went to a drawer by his bed. She did not watch, but readjusted her robe. "Here." He handed her two items. One was a bezoar, just in case. The other was his infamous potions book. She looked up at him questioningly. "I would like it back when you are finished, and I would like," He drew breath. "To see your finished work, if you don't mind." He tilted his head, his voice so deep and so quiet she felt it more than heard it again.

"Anything." She breathed. She regretted it the moment she heard herself. Why had she said that? His eyes flickered with something. He probably wondered if she was under the influence of the potion again. "Anything you'd like, sir. It's your book. Thanks again." And she was gone.

* * *

Severus Snape stood in his private quarters completely aghast. He looked around at the familiar room as if it were deceiving him, as if it had used some polyjuice potion and only appeared to be the room he knew so well. Of course, that was impossible.

No, it was the same room, but it was devoutly changed, perhaps in the way only true recluses can understand. He had rarely had another person in his bedchambers over the years; it had sometimes been a distraught student, though usually they went no further than his office, and it had never been a woman. Well, unless one counted Poppy, which he did not, when the nurse had to invade his bedroom to treat his wounds as he was too weak to make it the hospital wing or could not risk the students seeing him such a state. He shuddered at the memory. That had been almost the worst of it. Almost.

She had returned her empty glass to its exact position, touched nothing else. The only physical evidence she had ever been there was the wet stain on the back of his couch from her satiny rope of wet hair. He quickly dried with a wordless flick of his wand. But it did not erase her lingering presence.

The room smelled different, dripping in her scent and lavender, but it was astoundingly empty.

He growled in frustration and moved back to his bottle, pouring a little more into his glass. He glared at his fireplace with such fury he was honestly stunned that the flames did not flare under the look. Longbottom would have wilted. Well, a younger, pre-war Longbottom would.

He was vexed with himself for not figuring out the potion had been absorbed through the skin, not ingested. Of course, Miss Granger had the advantage of knowing what was going on at the time and being sure she had not drank anything. Still, he should have thought of that.

He was further irked that Granger disagreed with him on the target. Who would want to attack him? An aging man who was entirely alone. He had no family, few friends. Nothing to envy and that's what most hate is. Sure, there were a few cowardly death eaters who would sooner use a wand or a deadly poison before they'd think out something so diabolical. Moreover, he had a deep feeling that Granger was in some sort of danger, and she was too focused on him to see it. She was about to throw away her reputation and complicate things with her friends, and if his instincts were right it would all be for naught.

He swallowed the last of the alcohol with a hiss.

Then, there was the matter of her barging into his rooms naked. She was wearing a bathrobe, true, but aside from that she was sopping wet and perfectly naked. Perfectly was the correct word, to her credit. The legs that slipped out of the robe were surprisingly shapely, the figure hugged by the belt smoothly curved, her long neck and peaking chest so pale and delicate. A look at Hermione Granger usually earned one an eyeful of bushy brown hair, a plain but pleasant face, and at least one book. She dressed conservatively, he realized, so much so that her figure went largely unnoticed. And as she matured into a woman, it had grown more impressive.

Merlin's beard, was he thinking that?

He strode to his private store, downing two potions at once to bring himself under control. Wiping his mouth, he felt his mind and body return to normal.

He would not think about a student like that! Certainly, Hermione Granger was not a typical student. Not only was she brighter and more mature, by nature and by experience, but she was an adult. Severus hardly thought seventeen adulthood, law or no, but Hermione had returned to school a year late. On top of that, since her birthday was in later September, she turned nineteen shortly after she began.

But he was technically old enough to be her father. A young father, but nevertheless, not that age really mattered. Look at Tonks and Lupin.

It was an awkward situation, having Hermione Granger as a student. She had fought in that castle alongside these teachers, even helped teach some of these students to defend themselves. She did not really need to finish, but she wanted to learn. She wanted to play by the rules. Unlike Potter and Weasley, she did not want special exceptions made for her.

She had worked in the infirmary, long hours after the battle, long days too. His memories from them were sparse, but her face swam in them, always tired—pale with dark circles under her eyes. Before the start of term and at the beginning, she'd helped him with research in his lab. An assistant, but a colleague nonetheless. She was quiet and followed instructions despite his short temper. Come to think of it, she was remarkably tolerant.

Now, she was his student again… but not really. She stood apart from the others physically too, uninterested and unapproachable. They knew she was older, famous, and smarter. He did not know if she knew that. She probably thought little of it, too busy reading.

He cursed himself again for noticing her slipping bath robe, soft pink with black roses. It was her fault, standing next to his bed in that state! He may have remarkable restraint, but he was a man. He had wondered for an instant, but the guilt was gnawing at him now, his gut feeling raw.

Sleep potions would have to wait. Minerva needed to be aware of the latest development, of Miss Granger's opinions, her plan.

He was sitting in the headmistress' office a few minutes later.

"She's going to tell Miss Weasley?"

"Yes." He said darkly.

"I'm not sure that's best."

"I expressed my opinion on the matter." He said simply.

"And she's still pursuing that?"

"Naturally."

"Strange. I would have thought… she puts great weight on your opinion."

This revelation stunned him a moment. "Perhaps I did not object strongly enough."

"Is she going to tell Mr. Weasley beforehand?"

"I have no idea." He said bored.

"You did not ask?" The surprise in her tone surprised him.

"About her dating life? Hardly." He grimaced.

Minerva gave him a perceptive look. "Why not? You are sort of friends by now surely. And you certainly share a personal dilemma."

"She is my student. Her relations with that bumbling ginger are hardly of interest to me, whatever the situation."

"Surely she isn't just another student to you by now, Severus." She smiled with polite skepticism from behind her desk.

"I did not say any other student, but my student nonetheless. I did not wish to intrude into her personal life. I appreciate privacy."

She nodded. "You are both private people. Either of you have yet to give an interview. I wonder if the person behind this knows this, hence the choice in approach."

"I have no doubt they hoped to humiliate at least one of us, but do not believe they will be satisfied with this even if it had come to fruition." He squeezed the arms of the chair in each hand as if bracing for the next attack, whichever it might be.

* * *

"Morning." Ginny groaned.

"Long night?" Hermione asked, munching her toast.

"Early morning." Ginny winked. "How was your detention?"

She gulped. Here it went.

* * *

A/N: A bit of a cliffhanger, I know. So here's the deal. I'm feeling rather Slytherin at the moment, so if you guys are interested in seeing the big reveal and results super early, review! If there are enough reviews, I'll post it tomorrow to show my appreciation for your wonderful support and feedback thus far.

This chapter was quite a lot of conversation. I hope their theorizing made sense. Do you agree with Snape or Hermione? Have your own theory? I'd love to hear them. The things you guys have commented have been great.

Once again, thank you all for reading!

Yours,

Elsie


	6. Weasleys

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no profit from this story.

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A/N: Wow. You guys are astounding; the response from last time was not just fantastic, you beat the current record for reviews per chapter for this story! I cannot thank you enough. I know I practically held a chapter ransom, but it was worth it to hear from people reading. I hope this chapter makes up for my cruelty. I'm a Slytherin of my word.

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Chapter 6: Weasleys

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_"__Morning." Ginny groaned. _

_"__Long night?" Hermione asked, munching her toast._

_"__Early morning." Ginny winked. "How was your detention?"_

_She gulped. Here it went. _

"Actually," She whispered, but not as quietly as she could. "I need to talk to you."

"What happened?" Ginny's hand held her glass from her lips. "Should we go somewhere else?" She whispered as she tilted her head closer to her friend.

Hermione shook hers. Her eyes dashed inadvertently towards Snape. He was watching, his expression disapproving. Tough, she thought. It was her decision.

With a breath, she admitted to Ginny. "No. there are more voices here, less likely to be heard. It's rather embarrassing." She tucked her hair behind her ear.

Ginny's eyes were wide and eager, if a little apprehensive. "Did you have a row with Snape?"

"Not exactly. Well, rather the opposite actually."

Ginny's eyebrows lifted. The younger girl subconsciously leaned closer to Hermione. "_What_?" She whispered.

"I was slipped," She chose the words carefully and was still unsure about them. "A form of amortensia."

"Amor—" Ginny's mouth fell open. "A love potion?" She hissed. Immediately, the friend glanced around for eavesdroppers then shot a glance up at the staff table. An unhappy glance, Hermione noted.

Hermione nodded, sipping her juice and looking around the great hall as if the conversation was normal. Meanwhile, Ginny did not move from the edge of her seat.

With a side glance, Hermione noticed the headmistress frowning in her direction. So McGonagall disapproved of her plan of action as well?

How could they possibly believe her a target of any plot except _maybe _one of jealousy? Severus Snape made enemies on both sides working as a spy. Not everyone was so willing to forgive the mark on his arm, and more than a few dangerous madmen were unwilling to forgive his betrayal of the Dark Lord. Having saved Harry Potter was unforgivable to some and having killed Albus Dumbledore was unforgivable for others.

Then, there were the less obvious options. Not only was the man known in his own right as an accomplished brewer, perhaps with rivals, but may also be and resented by a few as a past teacher. He was a formidable man, an expect dueler, accomplished potions master and legilimens. He was a challenge.

She, on the other hand, was just clever, a friend of someone famous, a plain-looking schoolgirl. She was more vulnerable to attack, but to what ends? If Snape was correct they wanted to put a wedge between her and Ron they need not create a real scenario with the potion, just invent one. She knew from experience that a simple picture of her speaking to or sitting next to anyone captioned with a creative article would be enough to start the rumor mill spinning.

Spin away.

"I don't understand," Ginny shook her head. "Who?"

Hermione tried to make herself look mortified, or pained. The other Gryffindor did not catch on, so Hermione nodded towards the staff table over her shoulder.

Ginny started a little, covered her mouth, but immediately lowered her hand. "Snape!" She hissed. The redhead did not even try to hide her disgust. Didn't she know Severus could see her face? "You came on to _Snape_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, feigning interest in her newspaper. "I told you it was embarrassing."

Ginny was not satisfied. "What happened?! Did he flip out?"

"No. He was very patient. He's a potions master, Ginny. He cured me."

Ginny frowned. "Patient? How patient? How far did you go before he stopped you?"

The blush was not feigned. "I—I kissed him."

"Ugh!" Ginny said maturely, then washed her mouth with pumpkin juice. Hermione wrinkled her brow. Ginny's attitude was irking her more than she had anticipated.

"That's rude." She told her friend.

"Sorry!" Ginny quickly apologized. "It's not your fault, Hermione. You were drugged. I just, pity you, honestly. I can't imagine kissing that greasy git."

She could not keep the edge from her voice, trying not to clench her paper. "That git," She couldn't even use the word greasy. "Is a hero, who saved your boyfriend, may I remind you?"

"Whoa, are you still under the influence?" Ginny joked, getting only a glare in return. "I'm just saying, being forced into kissing your teacher instead of your boyfriend," She paused to take another drink, giving Hermione a chance to blanch guiltily at her words. "Especially someone so, well, unappealing and lonely… No wonder he was patient. Been a while, I'm betting. Probably enjoyed it."

"Ginny, how dare you?" All humor left her friend's face. The older girl felt heads turn towards them. It did not stop her. "I'm sure the man was mortified and repulsed to be attacked by one of his students. It was no one's fault!" Her voice quivered with outrage as she barely kept it down. "And if you must know, I am the one who enjoyed it!"

The look on Ginny's face was priceless, cooling Hermione's anger before she had reached the door of the great hall. The second her feet crossed the threshold, however, the whispers had begun to hum around her, and she suddenly realized what she had said.

She had wanted to shock the redhead into shutting her mouth and at the same time give her something to talk about. Maybe it was more than that. Maybe she was trying to protect Snape from Ron's reaction by putting the blame solely on herself.

Or maybe she was being a coward.

Clearly, McGonagall and Snape thought this would end badly for her and Ron. She was not stupid. Ginny had reacted at least as badly as her hot tempered brother would. Hermione had known this, and now she had crossed a line. She had told her boyfriend's sister that she had enjoyed kissing someone other than her boyfriend. There would be consequences and maybe she had known that, was secretly counting on it. Because she could not break up with Ron simply because he did not deserve it.

She was not even sure she wanted to break up with Ron though, she realized, so how could she take such an irrevocable step without being absolutely sure? She had already lost her family and so many friends. She couldn't lose Ron, the rest of the Weasleys, maybe even Harry. They would hate her if she ended it.

For years she had waited for Ron to see her, really see her, to want her. Finally, he did. It had been amazing when they had finally stopped dancing around it. The tension had exploded in that kiss, their bodies so full of adrenaline she thought her heart would pop. She adored Ronald still, and he was not a bad boyfriend, but the kisses were sparks at best. After years of wanting what she could not have, she only loved Ron as a friend.

She thought, given time, he could grow to love him more. He deserved it. He loved her. He wanted her. She tried so hard. Maybe something was wrong with her. Who was she kidding? Something was definitely wrong with her. Her favorite part of the day was crying in the bath.

She told herself if Ron left her, she'd be doing him a favor. Was she? Could she watch him fall for someone else while she remained alone? Could she share her friends with Ron's future lovebird when it had always been just the three of them?

That was over, she told herself again. She had begun telling herself that sometime months ago. It wasn't a sudden realization, a trigger, or anger that ended the romance. It went cold like a fire overnight.

Hermione was not listening in class. She did not raise her hand. If her teachers noticed, they did not say anything. She skipped lunch to avoid Ginny; she skipped dinner to finish her handbook for Harry and Ron. Her usual plans were ruined as she had promise Snape she would vary her routine. Unable to wait any longer to get the confrontation with Harry and Ron over with, she used the finished handbook as an excuse to visit.

* * *

"Headmistress, given the state of things I wondered if I might use your floo?"

"Of course." McGonagal indicated the fireplace.

"Thank you."

"Good luck." The professor said as the prefect stepped in the flames.

Grimmauld Place appeared before her, but it was not its usual self. It was lively, doused with some colored streamers. Several bodies were draped casually in chairs, bottles open all around. The celebrating group stopped mid-cheer and all eyes fell on her.

"Oh sorry, Harry." She blushed, stepping out. "Didn't mean to stop by unannounced."

"Don't be silly, Hermione." Harry smiled at her, setting down his glass. "You don't have to announce yourself." She still felt awkward as the room was completely quiet, everyone's faces blank. The twins were right, she guessed, she was a party killer.

A young witch with short hair darted forward from her chair closest to Hermione. She was still sort of sitting as she took her hand. "Hermione Granger, an honor to meet you."

That seemed to spring people back to life. "Oi! Great to meet you. Devon Wheeler."

"Hello." Hermione shook the groups hands, smiling politely but not remembering the names. She was distracted.

"We're just having a bit of a celebration." Harry explained. "Made it though a particulairly grueling part of training today, and we all passed."

"Congratulations!" She offered.

"Thanks." Came the quiet reply. Some said nothing.

"Wow." A dark curly headed, light eyed Aeneas said, kissing her hand. "You didn't mention she was beautiful _and_ valiant." His eyes twinkled so boldly, she glanced at the floor.

"OI! That's my girlfriend you're talking about." Ron shoved him jokingly. "Alright, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded. "I have something for you two."

"Already? Geez, Hermione, you work fast! This year that boring?" Harry said, oblivious to the way the blonde girl followed his every move with her eyes. She even watched his throat as he swallowed.

"Hardly." She laughed, but it wounded weak even to her. "Ron, will you show me where to put this?"

"Here, I'll take it." He offered, reaching for the notebook wrapped in parcel paper. She wasn't sure her help did not constitute cheating. The lines she crossed for these boys... maybe they would keep that in mind when they threw her out. "Actually, I wanted a word."

"Oh, oh, er, yeah." Ron fumbled.

Aeneas wagged his eyebrows suggestively as she passed him to go to Ron. Gently, her boyfriend took her hand in his. There were some tasteless calls she they left the room, headed towards the stairs.

She rolled her eyes as the door swung shut behind them. "Shut it!" She heard Harry tell them with a laugh.

The two walked up to the bedroom hand in hand, without a word. Once the door was shut, Hermione set the book on Harry's bed. She thought it was sweet they had the whole place to themselves and still shared their same room. "Let me show you." She unwrapped the book excitedly.

Ron offered an encouraging look over her shoulder. "It's got everything. I transcribed all the most important passages, organized them in a logical order added just a few helpful notes- don't skim them Ronald—and voila." She said proudly.

He touched the homemade volume, flipping through it. "That's incredible. Thanks, Hermione. I don't know what we'd do without you." He smiled, a few inches from her own face. She inhaled deeply. She still liked the way he smelled, his hair.

He leaned in to kiss her and she almost let him. His warm lips touched hers, but before he moved she whispered, her face pained, eyes closed. "Oh, Ron."

"Oh, Hermione." He thought she was enjoying it. He wrapped his long arms around her, pressed his lips harder against hers, opening them. She pulled away. "Hermione, what's wrong?" He searched her face, not trying to keep the concern from his voice.

"Ron, I'm so, so sorry."

"What happened?" He asked, trying to look down into her eyes. They burned like she got smoke in them.

She drew a shuddering breath. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" His concern grew, voce higher.

"Ron," She swallowed, keeping her voice firm. "I was slipped some sort of love potion. I don't know how I got it, not yet, but I kissed Snape." His face did not move. He stood in shock. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry!" She grabbed him round the middle and buried her face in his sweater-clad chest. She could still smell the burrow clinging to the yarn.

Ron did not respond for a moment. She was afraid she might burst into tears. She squeezed him, his silence frightening her. "Ron, say something!"

"No," he breathed softly, his voice high in disbelief. "No," he muttered. "Can't have been. You must have had a nightmare is all." He held her shoulders.

"Ron, aren't you listening?" She pulled back. "I kissed him! I kissed professor Snape." But Ron was staring dead ahead at a lamp shade. Why it had a sock on it, she had no idea.

"That's impossible." He almost laughed, squinting a bit at the lamp as if trying to recognize it.

She let him go. "It really was an accident, Ron, but I know you must be embarrassed… and disgusted. I'll leave you to your party." She hesitated at the door, Ron still stupefied. "If you want to get revenge. I understand."

"Revenge?" He finally turned around, puzzled.

"Ronald, really. The pair of you don't see how those women look at you. You're famous." She had not meant it to sound so bitter.

"Hermione," He smiled reassuringly, his eyes earnest. "They're just our friends."

"I know that. But they don't." He shook his head, clearly unfazed. "Anyway, I'd understand."

"Hermione," He held her face innocently in her hands. "I'd never. Besides, it's not as if you knew what you were doing." He seemed to say it more for his own benefit. He laughed softly. "Clearly. I mean its Snape, for Merlin's sake. I think you got the worst of it." He joked. It made her scowl.

"How horrible of you, Ronald." He chastised.

"I'm only joking." But he was struggling to try to suppress more laughter. "Are you going to stay a while?" He asked.

"I can't." She lied. Shouldn't it be more difficult to lie to him? "I have so much work to do. I only wanted to tell you before it got out." He nodded. "And bring you that." She waved to the book. Bless him, he had absolutely no idea what he had. "Don't let anyone see it."

"Of course not," He walked her out, a bit put out about it. "It really was good to see you; it was a rough day." There she went again, forgetting to feign her interest in their training.

"Was it?" She asked.

He nodded. "Last leg of physical fitness testing, well, before fighting." His tone picked up with excitement. "Almost didn't pass." He admitted shamefully.

"Well, I had no doubt you'd pass." He smiled, brightened by her faith in him. It wasn't entirely true though. She had a doubt, at least once. "Don't forget to read. I didn't do all that work for nothing. Goodnight, Ron."

He stopped her hand, pressing a kiss to her hair, her temple messily, but sweet. That was Ron, messy but sweet. "Night, 'Mione."

The blonde raised her eyebrows that they returned already. "Going already, 'Mione?" Harry asked.

"Work to do. You have some as well." She nodded at him, his feet propped on the kitchen table in the same manner as his late godfather, nursing another drink. He nodded. "Yes ma'am." A few sniggers followed his sarcasm. She gave him her best McGonagall look, but she broke a smile.

"Sorry you have to leave." Aeneas said.

Ron glared at him. He was blinking a lot too, as if thoughts were finally coming to him. "Maybe we'd best call it a night, mate." Ron suggested to Harry. Harry dropped his feet, giving his best mate a knowingly look.

"Right." He said. The groans of disappointment were covered by the roar of the flames as they covered her.

* * *

She should be relieved. It had not gone poorly. The headmistress was not in when she arrived, so Hermione went straight to her common room where the usual early Friday night ruckus echoed. It annoyed her, so she left to walk the grounds.

They were swathed in the most wondrous of all colors—autumn. A stunning red, brilliant orange, gentle yellow, and even spots of a maroon, all weaving and fading into one another along the borders of the grounds, along the horizon. Beyond that, snow had begun to crest the mountains. The air smelled and tasted crisp in the way that cleared the mind and stung the cheeks.

Once her nose began sniffling and the castle was shadowed in dark, a rumble of thunder on the air, she trudged back up to the doors. She hoped Snape was happy. She had certainly been neglecting her careful schedule. No bath, no studying. She had not seen the library or even eaten. No one, she thought with a bitter snort of laughter, would expect her to be so stupid.

To her left, somewhere in the dark, she heard a sound. Her wand was out at the ready before she thought to touch it. A stormy wind blew through the windows, the corridor. Something moved in the shadows.

"Show yourself!" She shouted.

A loud crack sounded to her right, outside, lightening striking through a tree with a fat, white crash. There came a few more, smaller pops in quick succession, but not like lightening. Curses. The wind blew again... like that night they came through the vanishing cabinet...

She trembled, cold fear was burned out by a rush, the fighting rush. "Stupefy!" She shot towards the shadow and the noise.

The suit of armor clamoured to the floor. A laughed echoed down the hall. A laugh, like Bellatrix. More light, more pops all around in the dark. She spun, back against the wall, hearing her own breathing and the faint snap of her ankle. Her eyes darted from end to the other.

There, at one end stood a large black figure, robes fanning out behind it caught on the breeze. Even from a distance, it felt cold, stood unfeeling, just as _he_ had—Riddle. She raised her wand at it, but before she could catch the breath to shout a spell, it spoke. The even rumble of the voice reached her before the sound of it did.

"Miss Granger?" Snape asked.

"Watch out!" She panted, shooting an unspoken hex at the shadows approaching his back. But as she stood, her ankle gave, wrenching further. Her eyes blurred with the pain and she stumbled. It was alright. Snape had seen her. He would watch her back. She sunk down against the wall, her eyes closed.

"Miss Granger?" He called over the crash of the breaking storm. He was close enough for her to feel his warm breath, so much warmer than the wet breeze blowing the freed strands of her hair from her face. "Miss Granger are you hurt?" She felt the tears burn her cool cheeks. "Were you attacked?" She felt the tremor of his voice close by her.

She was trying to answer, but all the sounds around her and her mind seemed to be moving much slower than the droplets assaulting her face. They felt such a relief to her skin. It was growing hot, as was her head. It buzzed with heat, with the dread of slow realization one is trying to smother.

"Let me help you." His arm supported her from behind, under her other arm, he tried to lift her. She was no help, even let out a pitiful yelp at the weight on it. "_Where_ are you hurt?" He demanded with a hiss.

"My ankle." She managed. "I'm fine."

"You've broken it, I daresay."

"I'll heal it then, in a moment. Not the hospital wing, please."

He sighed exasperatedly. "Take my neck." She did so, hearing the students beginning to crowd in towards her. She allowed him to sweep her up and stride quickly down to the dungeons, shouting back, "Get to bed!"

She did not look at his face. She was too humiliated. The doors to his office swung open as if ripped free by a gust of wind. He paused in there, but did not release her. Rather he strode again into his private quarters and laid her upright across his settee.

"Thank you."

"Who was it? Did you see?" He growled, lighting the fire.

"I—I don't think it was anyone."

He frowned.

"I thought I saw someone. Heard something, but the storm…it reminded me of…I think I was confused."

His features filled with understanding then something that looked like concern. He stood, striding to the same bedside drawer as before, retrieving something. He returned handing her a vial. She downed it without question, at which he raised an eyebrow.

"You may have been being followed before you… became disoriented." She covered her face with one hand, the arm resting on the back of the sofa.

His touch was so soft she started. Gently, he pulled back her hand. His face, not far from hers, was pained. "You need not feel ashamed. What is happening to you is perfectly natural."

"Natural?" Her voice broke in a laugh or sob, uncertainly. "Neither you nor Harry—"

"Do you think it has not happened to me in the past?" He snapped. "And _Harry_," he tried to say the name. "Has been continually battling, has he not? Where he is it is fine for him to always be on edge, expecting an attack. His ill ease is seen as eagerness, vigilance." He spat, stressing each word.

"I know from his letter he suffers from nightmares," She tried to hide her shock that Harry had been writing to Snape. "Even though he _treats_ the terrors himself." He clearly disapproved of Harry's method of treatment. Harry had told _her_ the nightmares were better, not to worry her no doubt. She had yet to comment on the drinking. He was grown, after all, and doing well enough in training.

"But you?" She asked.

"I have had had training in controlling my mind." Slowly he stood, towered over her all in black. "And a store of potions, which you had only to ask for if you needed."

"I did not realize... I was so affected." He rang a small bell by his bed.

"Sit still." He instructed. She remained. He took to one knee beside her, removing her shoe and sock with the swish of his wand. She bit her lip as the pain seared without warning. He was quick to set it, quick to heal. The ache was dull with the potion he'd given her.

Tea with a chamomile scent appeared on a table between the sofa and chair. "Drink." She sat up, her leg still elevated, and sipped the tea. He sipped his from the armchair. The pair sat in silence for a moment.

"I am not convinced you were not being followed." He spoke at last. "This probably triggered your reaction. Still," He looked into his tea. "How bad is it?" He swallowed a gulp, setting the cup down to its saucer.

"I—" She had no idea. She just thought she liked to cry in the bath. Certainly, she was different after the war, who was not? Sure, she was unsure of what she wanted to do. She ate less, stayed alone, had trouble going to sleep and woke too early.

"How. Bad."

"I'm fine."

"That bad then." He all but snarled, pushing himself up from his chair by his hands. "This," He pulled another vial from his drawer, "is the new potion I was researching this summer, with your assistance. I have tried it only on myself and Mr. Potter. You may,"

"I'll try it." She stood.

* * *

A/N: Would you try it? I'd probably try whatever Snape gave me. Next time: we find out what it is, an agreement is reached, a friendship is mended, the unexpected happens, and tears are shed...

Thanks again for the tremendous response. It really does make my day to hear from you all and inspires me to write more. As always, thanks for reading and if you can spare a couple seconds to review. I'm concerned about your reactions to the attack...if it indeed was an attack... and of course on Ron. As a side note, if everyone a fan of Ginny/Harry?

Yours,

Elsie


	7. Wonderful

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

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A/N: Thank you to all those who reviewed last chapter. I really enjoyed reading all the responses. Thanks also to the many follows and favorites. This is one of my favorite chapters thus far, and the longest one yet, so let me know if you like it too!

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Chapter 7: Wonderful

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_"This," He pulled another vial from his drawer, "is the new potion I was researching this summer, with your assistance. I have tried it only on myself and Mr. Potter. You may,"_

_"I'll try it." She stood._

Yet again, he was taken aback. "I have not even said what it—"

"I can guess. I did assist you. It's to combat the effects of—"

"Trauma." He finished for her. "It began years ago as a new, stronger formula to cure the effect of prolonged torture by wand— to help recover Frank and Alice Longbottom, actually— but I was wrong in my approach. The already existing potion targeted too much the physical aspects of the after effects. It only worked if administered soon after and with limited reach.

"It was, it may interest you to know, a muggle book on post-traumatic stress disorder, coupled with my own training of the mind, that led me to believe the cure rested in one organ, the brain. I focused my studies on that, as you probably noticed, treating the source of physical manifestations of stress, not the symptoms themselves."

"That's brilliant." She beamed. Yes, he rather thought so.

"As of yet, this final batch you helped me to develop does show some success, but both the subjects have also some exposure to Occlumency."

Judging by her expression, she saw the rub.

"Miss Granger," He wrapped his hand around the vial, restoring it to his drawer. "I have a proposition to make." She seemed interested. Good, he thought, perhaps this would work.

"I would like to tutor you in the art as well, in exchange for you being my 'guinea pig', as the saying goes, and allowing me to test the effect on you as well."

She scrutinized him for a moment. "You already suspect it will work and would not ask me to try it if there was a significant risk." She was correct. "You are offering to help me."

"You helped me, if you recall." He barely spoke. Her brow creased slightly as if she did not understand what he meant. He tried again, "Then in exchange for helping you, I accept your assistance in penning a potions text and in writing up my research on this potion to be reviewed and published."

She considered it for a moment, then nodded. "That way, we work together."

What had he just agreed to? Then again, what would he not have agreed to?

Whatever Minerva insisted, Hermione Granger was precariously close to not being alright at all. He suspected someone had been following her. This had triggered her to go into the mindset of dueling, and though whoever it was had likely left, she had interpreted the sights and sounds to be the same as her last time she'd battled in that corridor.

"You've been avoiding your routine?" He asked.

"Entirely."

"Including meals I see." His expression was unchanged, but she shifted under it nonetheless. He had not seen her take a meal in over a day, and then they were irregular at best.

"I went to Harry's to warn Ronald."

"I see." He sat. Following his lead and invitation of hand, she sat across from him. "And did you eat there?"

"Well,"

"Join me." He cast his hand over the table, tinkling the little bell again.

She seemed surprised, as she did every time he extended familiarity or curtesy of any kind, but she accepted his invitation.

"How did it go?" He asked, as Minerva had suggested.

"With Ron?" She was even more surprised he inquired after her personal affairs. "Alright, I suppose. He was a bit shocked, but being that it was magical, he understood no one was to blame."

"He was concerned, no doubt, about the motivations and method by which it came to you. Tell me, did he fall on your side of things or mine?"

She frowned. "Well, I don't think Ron got that far." He raised an eyebrow for more explanation. She got his meaning. "He was rather shocked."

Unbelievable. The boy had not even thought that far. He was either not so concerned with her protection as he was his own feelings or he was too stupid to deduce that meant a threat. His face clearly gave away his opinion.

"He's got a lot on his plate at the moment." She defended.

"As do I." He reminded her gently as the food appeared. "And Potter?" He uncovered her dish first, a roast with vegetables, indicating she should eat.

She shook her head. "I did not get the chance to talk to Harry."

"So you are still possibly being followed. Your plan did not seem to work, though no disaster came of it."

"I don't know that precisely. It may have been my imagination. Perhaps they have not gotten wind of it yet."

"Everyone has gotten wind of it." He said through his teeth.

"Have they?" Her voice went up a notch. "It hasn't caused you too much trouble?"

"Hardly. Though you have the pity of many, I assure you, few dared to even mention it to me and those that did meant well."

"I'm sure they did." She agreed, with a hint of humor.

"I am relieved your boyfriend," She flinched almost imperceptibly at the word, he noticed. Curious. "Did not react jealously, but that leaves us back where we started."

"Well, not exactly. If my attempts have been unsuccessful, we have eliminated one motive. This makes it more likely you are the target."

"I was not the one being followed." He reminded her.

"It's possible I was not either."

"The alternative is that you imagined the entire thing and nearly attacked students, myself, or Mr. Filch's cat. Do you truly believe you were so wrong?"

"I don't know." She put down her fork. "I don't seem to be so sure of anything anymore."

"You've skipped meals, been not quite yourself, isolated yourself… tell me when is the last time you slept through the night?"

She looked down. "When Sirius died."

Years. It had been years. "Why have you not come to me?" He asked quietly. A potions master, maker of dreamless sleep draught. She would have known he had spied then, was in the Order. Did she always distrust him, like the others? "Did you not trust me?" He asked.

"Of course I trusted you." She sounded insulted. "I didn't want to look weak."

"Damn Gryfindor."

"You've had worse." She whispered to her spoon.

"Listen to me," he stared into her eyes, bore into hers unrelenting. "Your mind was younger and less accustomed to violence than mine when you were first forced to fight for Potter and Riddle's antics. Just sixteen. I did not become a Death Eater until I had graduated Hogwarts, and there was certainly no deadly attack in the halls where I was supposed to be safe. Then again, he next year you fought as they entered the castle. Dumbledore gone. Less safe. Then tortured, then again fighting here in these halls, death, suffering around these corners.

"The troll that attacked you, when all things magical were so new, the escaped killer, the werewolf teacher, being nearly killed by the Basilisk, these did not faze you. I saw it. But finding out Pettigrew was under your nose, that Moody was not who he seemed, standing helpless by as your friend fumbled his way through games he was ill prepared for at best, games which killed a child older than you—these things effected you."

"You saw it?"

"I am very perceptive."

"You are. I thought I was hiding."

"You were, hiding your own potential behind your friends, fighting Potter's battle so long you are at loss to live a life your own."

"You make me sound very pathetic. Is that what you think of me?" Her eyes shone with tears.

"That you are brave and care more for your friends than you do for yourself? Yes. And these things I admire, but in excess they are foolish and can be your undoing. I would not waste you and your value for them."

It took her a moment to collect herself. "Thank you." He nodded, feeling a change of subject was in order. He did not want her emotions to leave her feeling any more exposed.

"What shall we arrange for our…work?"

"Whatever is convenient for you, sir." Came her quick reply.

"Are you free Saturday evenings?"

"Yes." She answered without hesitation.

"Very well. We shall convene Occlumency lessons on Saturdays at seven in the evening, if that is acceptable."

"Quite."

"Once we have made some progress, we will test the potion on you. We can arrange time for our written projects later."

"Yes, sir." Her formality irked him. Had he not extended friendship?

"You helped me wake from sleep, if I recall correctly." The memory was blurry and her face was surprised he seemed to recall as much. "I shall help you rest soundly once again. You have my word." He promised evenly.

"Then I have no doubt I will." She said sweetly, standing. "Thank you for healing me and for dinner."

"I expect you to dine with me Saturdays." He said with his back to her as he made to open the door. "You will need to replenish your strength afterwards, and I wish to see you are not neglecting yourself. Miss Granger," He cut her off before she could object to her being looked after. "You will take care until in case the master brewer strikes again?"

She smiled. "The master brewer?" Her voice held laughter. "I will be careful. And you?"

"It is a habit." He said slowly. He'd had years of it, never mind that it was suffocating him, biting back his words and choking back all his emotions.

"Goodnight." She passed him.

"Goodnight."

* * *

His mouth twitch upwards in a smile though his face did not manage to hold it.

How strange. She had a civil conversation with-– no a civil, private meal with—Severus Snape.

He had agreed to help her take control of herself again, and he had accepted her help in return. It would be the perfect place for her to start her post Hogwarts life, having written a paper on such an invention that would help so many after such a harrowing time, and even to assist on a text with research. A field of research, editing, writing—those were areas she could see herself in, enjoying.

There was victory in that, a small one, but that hope along with a proper dinner and a steady ankle, returned a spring in her step.

There was another victory too, though. She knew there was someone else inside that black clad potions master, someone underneath the austere expression and cold words. There was a man who time and time again helped Harry, who thanklessly risked his life out of loyalty to Dumbledore. He was at heart, she had guessed, the gentle sort of man who loved few as friends or otherwise and loved so passionately that, despite his disposition and tone, did so without recompense, without failing or relenting. And tonight, she had glimpsed that side of the man. No, he had _showed_ himself to her, as if they might one day be friends.

That too was a little victory. Her mood had taken a straight upwards turn as she headed towards the common room.

"Hermione, there you are!" Ginny rushed to her in the hall, breathless. "Are you alright? I heard you were attacked in the corridor! Did you see who it was?"

"I'm fine." She shook her head.

"Do you think it's whoever slipped you the potion?" Ginny murmured.

"I don't know." Hermione admitted. "I don't even know if I—never mind. I talked to Ron."

"Does he know you were attacked?"

"No, and it was not so much an—it happened when I got back."

"What happened?"

"Snape helped me."

Ginny's eyebrows went up, but she said nothing at first. "Hermione, I'm sorry about earlier. I did not mean to insult you or professor Snape. He's not so bad." She shrugged.

"Thank you, Ginny. I suppose I just get a little defensive of him. He's been so unfairly treated, you know."

"You always had a weakness for those sort, didn't you?"

"I suppose."

"House elves, Harry, Neville," Ginny laughed. Hermione smiled back, happy they were on their regular, friendly terms again. "Ron's going to be furious when he finds out, so is Harry. I just can't imagine," They walked on towards the common room, "who it is that's targeted you with a love potion."

"I think," Hermione glances around. "It's someone who wants to break up me and Ron."

"Really?"

"I think so because you see if someone had access to poison me, they could have just poisoned me. And I think whoever was following me earlier was trying to see if their plan worked. I should have been more upset after speaking to Ron…"

"Wait, so you think some crazy broad wants you to break up with my brother so bad that they drugged you to come on to professor Snape?"

Hermione nodded, but bit her lip. It sounded less likely when I was phrased like that.

"If you say so. You are brilliant, but, Hermione, be careful, okay?"

"I always am." She assured her friend as they paused outside the portrait of the Fat Lady. But in that moment, she felt a deep, ridiculous instinct to be completely and totally reckless. She was tired of being careful.

"Fireworks." Ginny told the portrait, which swung open for them. "We're still on for Wednesday?"

"Of course."

"Do you want to get some butterbeers and chocolate? Catch up a little in your room?"

"You know, that would be great."

Half an hour later, Hermione and Ginny were lying on their backs on the brunette's bed, laughing. Hermione clutched her side. Hot chocolate and a pile of strawberries and scones laid on the table nearby.

"Poor Harry! He actually thought that would be romantic?"

"I guess. Someone must have told him."

"So what did you do?" Hermione gasped for air, still laughing.

"Played along of course." Ginny sniggered. "What was I supposed to do?"

Hermione could not contain her peals of laughter. "Shut up, Hermione." Ginny said, still laughing, smacking her with a pillow. Hermione could not help it. It felt good to laugh so hard again, but their fun was quickly ended.

* * *

There was a rush of flames, a flash of green, and professor McGonagall brushed of her evening housecoat of soot, stepping into Hermione's room. "Miss Granger, I'm sorry to disturb you."

"Not at all, Headmistress." Said Hermione as both girls stood. "Something wrong."

"Granger, you had better come with me. Miss Weasley you may as well. Maybe you can talk some sense into your brother."

The pair exchanged a glance, then followed the headmistress. There was more chattering in their wake. There always would be, she supposed. "Get to bed, all of you!" McGonagall told them out of habit.

They did not go to the Headmistresses' office, but to the hospital wing. A cacophony of shouting trembled through the door. Hermione took a breath, giving Ginny an annoyed look before the door opened. She returned it, already extracting her wand. She knew her brother.

There were four people already in the room when McGonagall's shoes tapped impatiently into the infirmary. One was Madam Pompfrey. She was a bustle of white attempting to shove a solid black clad figure onto a hospital bed. Ron and Harry were also there. Ron gesticulating wildly, Harry trying to hold him back. The deep voice emanating from the tall figure by the bed confirmed it was Snape.

There were too many insistent voices to make out what anyone was saying. "Silence." The Headmistress demanded. Silence fell. Her arms were crossed, expression hard.

"Poppy," She said nicely. "Please shut the door and make certain we are not disturbed."

"My patient." He protested. A single shake of her head made it clear this did not matter. There were more important matters to discuss. Poppy made her exit.

The Headmistress flicked her wand at the door once they were alone.

Hermione spoke first. Snape's nose was bleeding. "Ron," She said through her teeth. "What is going on here?"

"He's a potions master, Hermione!" Ron jabbed his finger at said man.

Harry spoke. "Ron is so thick he reckons Snape slipped you the potion on purpose."

"What?!"

"Or maybe not, but he let you kiss him! I'll bet he enjoyed it too!"

"Hardly." A deep voice drawled in disgust. She tried to ignore the sting that threatened to spread.

"Ron. What. Did. You. Do?"

"I punched him."

"Ron!"

"Are you alright, professor?" Ginny asked gently. Hermione nearly started.

"He broke his nose." Harry said levelly. Ron had the nerve to look a little proud.

"Maybe Madam Pompfrey can straighten it out for him." Ron teased.

"Mr. Weasley!" McGonagall's appall straightened him out momentarily.

Hermione eyed Severus. His wand was out, hand holding a bloodied handkerchief to his nose.

"Ron, you've got it all wrong as usual." Ginny pocketed her wand. "Snape saved Hermione. She was attacked today."

"What?" Harry's head spun to her first, eyes narrowed. "What happened? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"She broke her ankle." Snape corrected.

"I tripped."

"What the hell is going on here?" Harry demanded, more worried than angry.

"Miss Granger," Snape began to explain.

Hermione stopped him, explaining quickly. "I was slipped a love potion. I kissed Snape. He found a cure. I thought it was an attack on his character, but he thought it was an attempt to get at me. In case that was so, I did not try to cover it up. I thought that might satisfy the person if they were trying to ruin Ron and my relationship. Today I was being followed. I overreacted and I tripped, broke my ankle. Snape healed it."

"Handy."

"Ronald." She said warningly.

"He kissed my girlfriend!" Ron defended.

"I told you _I_ kissed _him_." Hermione corrected.

"Yeah, but that's not exactly the whole story, is it?" He snapped. That stopped her short. She felt the eyes on her.

"Well, I—"

"What about the first time?"

"The first time?" Ginny repeated foggily. "Hermione, what's he talking about?"

"Miss Granger is attempting to save my—" Snape began.

"Wait stop." Hermione held up her hand. "Where did you hear that?"

"Him!" Ron stabbed his finger over his shoulder again. "Before I hit him."

"So, let me get this straight." She took a step forward, arms crossed against her chest. "You seemed stunned but fine when I left. So when did you decide to come attack Snape? After drinking? Talking to Harry?"

Harry put up his hands in innocence.

"I'm not drunk, Hermione." Ron replied. "I was not upset with you, but I don't see how _he_ did not know what was going on, how he couldn't stop you before you kissed him. I didn't know he'd helped you or that you were being targeted." Ron said honestly. "I was defending your honor."

She couldn't quite make sounds, just exasperated and uncertain noises.

"At first, I came to talk about you, about if you were okay,"

"You came to discuss me?" She breathed, her eyes stinging. It was like bees were attacking her.

Oblivious, Ron continued. "And then he told me about the first incident, him attacking you."

"He did not attack me. He was drugged as well."

"I'm a little insulted." Snape said. Hermione felt something catch in her throat. More stinging. "That you are so convinced I would force myself on my student."

"Well, I—I mean, er," He fumbled. "It happened twice."

"Exactly." Ginny said firmly. "Someone's being targeted."

"And he was first. That's why you think he was the target." Harry caught on.

"I agree." Ron said. "He's got more enemies than you. But I'm not convinced he hasn't enjoyed it. He had the nerve to tell me I was bad boyfriend— basically said I was not paying enough attention to you and he was looking out for you."

That surprised her, as did Ron's hurt tone, but Snape interrupted him. "Once again, you've shown your capacity for absorbing information, which is remarkably wanting. There are much more serious matters to discuss, Mr. Weasley, than your jealousy. Like the threat to Miss Granger."

"If she's in danger, it's because of you."

The two glared daggers at one another.

"Have we any suspects whatsoever beside professor Snape?" McGonagall spoke at last. "This is third time I've spent my evening with this. I do have another job. Of course, you are a priority, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled understandingly. Taking a deep breath, she tried to keep her voice expressionless. "But I'm an adult, Professor. I can look after myself. As you said, you have another job and hundreds of students to look after. I think the target here is professor Snape, but if I am the target, then that is my concern. And I'll handle it."

Minerva looked at a loss, as if she wanted to say something, but had no right. At Harry and Ron, she looked pointedly.

"Ron," She sighed. "If you wish to help me, you can best do that by telling everyone we're taking a break."

Ron's face and arms dropped. "Are you—are we b—breaking up?"

"No. Not at the moment." She said unsympathetically. "But if that's what someone wanted, and you think they would hurt me, it may keep them from doing so if they think their plan worked."

He nodded, words knocked out of him. Harry watched his friend sympathetically.

"Thank you for your concern, all of you. But contrary to popular opinion I do not need to be cared for or looked after; I'll be fine. Goodnight."

She turned to face Snape, whose face was contorted with something he seemed to want to voice. Hermione raised her wand, widening his eyes. He made no defense. She performed a wordless spell, fixing his nose with a snap.

She had turned on her heel and was leaving the hospital wing before he could speak.

* * *

"I can't believe him!" Ginny was on her heels.

"Me either." Hermione gritted her teeth. She realized her wand was still out as she stormed through the corridors.

"Sorry my brother can be so daft."

Hermione nearly tripped over her feet. She had not been thinking of Ron at all. "Oh Ginny, you don't have to apologize for your brother."

"I know." She huffed. "I know you love him, but I don't blame you if you make him wait it out."

She appreciated her friend sticking close, but at the same time wished she was alone. Hermione listened to Ginny rattle on about the situation until she could finally take her leave.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Want to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Sure, maybe. Goodnight, Ginny."

"Night."

* * *

She was surprised how quickly the tears case with no water and no jazz. Her routine was completely ruined. She slumped down to the floor, a sound making her jump, but it was just a sob.

She felt the exact same as she had the last time she were in Hogwarts without any friends. It was Halloween and she was crying in the girls' bathroom. No one liked her. She was a nightmare, Ron had said. Just a buck toothed, plain faced, bushy haired bookworm. Not even a girl, so far as he'd noticed.

Strange how Hogwarts could be a place of fun and adventure, a home, to those with friends—her, Harry, and Ron, the mauraders, the twins. Without friends, it could be torture. Snape, Luna, herself on her own. No wonder that man kept to the dungeons.

That… _man_. He could have remained silent. He was _good_ at remaining silent. But he had chosen to speak up when Ron had said he'd enjoyed the kiss.

'Hardly.' He had said. She cringed, crying harder in embarrassment. She had not thought about it, it had felt so natural at the time, but she maybe a bad kisser. She couldn't really remember what she'd been doing when he kissed her the first time. Maybe it was awful. Maybe that's why he would not do it again.

_Hardly_.

Suddenly her memories of the episode in his chambers, the sweet kiss he'd placed on her cheek, were soaked in humiliation. She had not thought herself particularly tempting, but now she knew in fact she he saw her at best as just some student and at worse a inhuman, insufferable know-it-all, one he could hardly enjoy kissing. In fact, the very idea of it was 'insulting'.

And then, her skin began to burn from her fingers up her arms to her chest. Outrage. They had _discussed_ her, if she was alright, how she was to be looked after, taken care of—it was degrading. She thought it was concern for her out of a sense of comradery that led Snape offer to help her, but it was pity and a belief in her general incompetence.

Every moment of the last couple of days replayed in her head with shame. She cried harder. Why go out of his way to let her know how undesirable she was? It's not as if she'd asked him to, or ever claimed she was anything special.

She'd at least always been adept. Now, thanks to her moment of weakness, Snape had managed to convey to the Headmistress and her friends that she was so damaged she was practically useless. Great. Superb. Wonderful.

* * *

A/N: Oh dear, how will this be salvaged? Thoughts on Hermione's condition? I thought it logical. Ron's outburst? Guesses on what's going on?

Bad news is, I ran into some serious plot complications recently. Good news is, it was in chapter 10 and 11 and seems to be mostly fixed, so I'm looking forward to posting more of this IF there's interest.

If I had such readers and reviews for my original works, maybe I could write them at the same speed. wistful sigh.

As always, thanks for reading!

Yours,

Elsie


	8. Work

Disclaimer: Still not mine.

* * *

A/N: You have been the absolutely most fun readers ever. Seriously, you deserve 100 house points. A golden snitch. You're wonderful. Thanks for all the reviews. Keep them coming. Thanks to your last response, I wrote two chapters in a day! So here's an up-date already. Just for you. Take a second to let me know what think.

* * *

Chapter 8: Work

* * *

Hermione Granger slept until noon. Ronald would have been proud— that is, if she were talking to him. Funny thing was, it didn't even feel like it was late in the day when she got up at last. She supposed it was because it was overcast.

Hermione woke to grey light in her empty room, the corners of it still shadowy. One of her hands dangled off the bed. It was the first thing she saw when she opened her heavy eyes. The eyelids felt like creaking doors on old hinges, but made no sound as she pried them open.

She was unsure what woke her. She had slept hard, but did not feel as if she had woken her own. The answer was soon revealed; Ginny wrapped at her door.

"Hermione?" The girl was taken aback when she opened the door. The brunette had no idea what she looked like, so it may be justified.

"Yes?" She blinked, rubbing her eyes.

"Want to go to Hogsmeade?"

"Already?" Hermione croaked, her throat sore from crying.

"Already?" Ginny gave a little scoff of laughter. "It's lunch."

Hermione blinked in reply. "Merlin." Recovering from shock, she shrugged and let Ginny inside her room, closing the door behind her. She tied her bushy hair back in a ponytail and changed for the visit into town. She need to get out, get some fresh air. Homework would have to wait. She tugged on her boots, and they were off, joined by a few fellow lions Ginny had not mentioned.

They walked freely out in the sunlight, or what there was of it. It was nice to not be sneaking and slinking around in the night, down hidden passageways, stealing glances over her shoulder. She smiled and breathed deeply the cool air, even surrounded by Ginny's friends babbling about classes.

Hermione at least agreed the new transfiguration professor was drastically different from McGonagall. Burnside was, if possible, more of a stickler on essays, which reminded her she need to turn in hers on edifice transfiguration theory, but much more lax when it came to practical results. He was enthusiastic, but most found him intellectually hard to follow.

"It's his first year teaching here." Hermione reminded them. "He'll get much better at the instruction part as time goes by."

They were quiet. Some nodded. Hermione sighed, looking out at the dusty snowfall, able to hear the crunch of her steps. She had the feeling these people did not really like her. They had been shoulder to shoulder to her in the great hall and the corridors for years, but now they looked at her like she was new to them, or like she'd been hiding under a false skin.

"Why'd you come back?" A boy on the quidditch team abruptly asked.

"Rex!" Ginny admonished.

"What?" He shrugged. "We're all wondering."

"It's okay, Ginny." Hermione laughed. "They can ask. I loved being at Hogwarts," she told the expectant faces as they neared the town. "And I always loved learning, especially magic. During my early years here, there always seemed to be so much going on that it took away from school." She paused. They knew what she meant. Riddle.

"I missed my last year, in which there were some very important things to learn. It's not like you can teach yourself all those things, or just ask experts as qualified as we have here whenever you don't understand something.

"Harry and Ron were ready to move on, knew what they wanted to do. They are qualified to hunt death eaters. I don't want to do that anymore. And fighting doesn't make me qualified for other positions. You can't just stupefy all problems."

There were some laughs at that.

"_Do_ you stupefy death eaters?" Someone asked jokingly.

"Oh yeah." Ginny told them.

"Loads of times. You'd be surprised." Hermione agreed.

"I can't imagine." A girl named Gemma said. "Not wanting to hunt down death eaters, especially after what they did to—well, after what they did."

"I don't really want to give them any more of my life." Hermione said simply. Some of the students nodded. They still looked at her sideways, never directly. She recognized the look. Awe.

It was remarkably stupid. She was reminded of what Harry had said when she had finally gotten him to instruct the D.A. He'd said he was not amazing, or fast, or mean, or skilled, or talented, not more so than the people Voldemort had killed. He got lucky.

So had she. She was even less inclined to fight, less lucky than the boy who lived. She knew the longer she did it, eventually her luck would run out.

As the group of teens window shopped, Hermione still kept an eye out up and down the streets. There were still death eaters on the loose, after all. When they went to the pub, she sat in the corner, facing the door. She wanted to be able to see the room, who was coming and going. She did not want anyone at her back. A touch paranoid perhaps, but better safe than sorry. Her companions were oblivious and chatted happily about quidditch.

When they were in the Honeydukes, their bodies constantly bumping into strangers, she kept a tight hold of her wand the whole time. But that was smart, like holding onto your purse. No one noticed. She was tired before the rest of them, but kept her content smile.

They walked back after sun set, having grabbed some meat pies and pumpkin pasties. She bid them farewell, noticing they were much more casual with her then. Hermione went to soak in her lavender bath and listen to her music. She found her mind blissfully blank. No Snape. No Ron. No Riddle.

She floated on her back, bubbles covering her skin. Now and then, she could feel a tiny pop. If anyone wished to slip her a poison, there was little she could do.

'Go ahead,' she thought carelessly, 'try me.'

* * *

Severus Snape was unimpressed with Miss Granger's tardiness. It was rude. What's more, she was aware of such things; she did not lack consideration. He was more than a little annoyed, but managed not to be personally affronted.

He simply sat and waited for her to arrive for their lesson. When more than fifteen minutes had passed, he stood and walked to his office door opening it. He did not see or hear her. He thought about going to look for her in case she had been attacked, but thought he would have gotten word of it by now and if he left he might just miss her when she did finally arrive. No note was on his door or anywhere around, so he shut the door, irritated.

Surveying the room, he saw no note there either. Surely, Granger could think of a way to get word to him if she needed.

Everything was set for their lesson. He'd already thought it through, planned it carefully. He knew that Granger's mind possessed more stamina and organization than Potter's, but he also did not want to push her too far, cause any new wounds or scare her away. Her magic was not as strong, so they would focus on preparing her mind first, a completely different approach than with Harry.

Hermione Granger did not hate him as Potter had, but she was in a way less trusting than the boy. Potter was naïve even after his suffering, suffering Severus had vastly underestimated. The young man was angry, but quick to believe what he wanted. Granger was more like himself. The world had never been what it appeared to be for her.

Friends turned out not to be friends. Enemies turned out not to be enemies. For her, at just eleven, everything she thought was real, was uprooted by a single letter.

He would have to make her trust him. But he would have to be careful. Aside from keeping her from thinking he was coming too close, he was also her teacher, so he could not appear to other to be too close or too friendly, especially since their lessons would be private. No one other than themselves and the headmistress would know, unless of course Granger wished to confide in her friends.

He sighed. Apparently, he had overestimated the candor she had with her friends.

Potter had seemed to tell his companions everything. Granger was apparently more private. She had told Weasley only what he needed to know of the situation, a fact Severus became _painfully_ aware of in a matter of minutes. She was a more private person, possibly to shield them from worry. Being discussed like a child had hurt her immensely. It was likely, he knew, that learning the dark thoughts she had finally voiced were being discussed behind her back, led, she believed, others to question her, would make her crawl further into her shell.

Potter and Weasley had looked shocked at Snape's concern. This agitated him—how thick could they be if even her professor could see how she had quietly changed? But they had not seen. She was not talking to them then, which meant she likely was not talking to anyone. He had said too much, thinking he was not telling them anything they did not know.

Now it seemed to her as if he'd betrayed her trust. He was not sure why bothered him so much.

He had always cared for his students, even Potter. He had no children of his own, never would. Maybe it was because she reminded him in a way of Lily that he felt he owed her more. Or perhaps it was her great potential, always overshadowed by Potter and Riddle, he did not want to see wasted because of the war. Maybe, if he was honest with himself, he thought the harm that had come to her somehow his fault. This was his penance.

It was certainly the least he could do to make up for practically violating her in the potions classroom.

He may even be able to convince her eventually, to let him take that memory away from her.

He was finished grading and she was over half an hour late. His temper was beginning to flare, but he also grew worried. He began scribbling a rough draft of an introduction of sorts to a potions text, getting ideas down on paper. He did not allow himself to glance at the clock again. A snap disrupted his work that had reached two feet of parchment. The house elf had delivered the dinner for two as he'd requested. He cast a warming spell.

"Thank you."

It had been a while since he had been stood up on a date. Of course, it was a date at all. But it brought up painful memories.

After Lily had turned him down, she had begun dating a Ravenclaw named Owen Wainwright. He was nice, very smart. Severus could not really complain, though he had found a way to do so anyway at the time, which Lilly tolerated. She, his only real friend, had encouraged him to pursue other interests. He'd received an invitation to Hogsmeade sent by Lucia Amistad, an older attractive Slytherin. She had died early in the last war. but back then she had been a blonde beauty, quiet and distant. He'd met her in the Hogs Head, or tried meet her.

She never came. At first, he worried he had the wrong time, maybe the wrong place. Later, he'd seen the looks of pity, the smirks as he waited, but he refused to leave, refused to be the rude one.

It was Black and Potter's idea of a joke, as it turned out. Severus had gotten in trouble for coming back late. He had told a few Slytherin's he had been stood up before he'd found out the truth. As a result, he had been told frankly and publically by Lucia she had not and would never intent to meet him for dinner. The humiliation had lasted until Malfoy had found out it was a Gryffindor attack on a Slytherin and taken matters into his own hands to retaliate.

It was not a pleasant memory.

Granger was over an hour late. She had not sent word, not rushed in flustered and apologizing. He stood, leaving a note for her, and began searching the castle. The more time elapsed, the more worried he became.

He was trained to think in worst case scenarios, to prepare. The last time he'd come upon her, she was defending herself, injured and shocked. Her form had been crumpled on the floor. She had moved still though, thank Merlin.

And someone had slipped her a potion while she was in the bath, vulnerable, someone who had been following her, watching her perhaps. It was someone, he knew, most likely close by, in the castle. Who else would be able to follow their actions so closely and get access to them to slip the potion? There were several new teachers. He would be checking them our personally, though McGonagall insisted she had already done so. There were some death eater's children. He could keep an eye on them. He'd noticed nothing suspicious thus far.

But it was not good enough. She was missing.

Contacting her friends was out of the question; Granger would be furious. There were no parents to owl. The headmistress would not welcome being interrupted another evening unless there was some evidence.

"Miss Weasley!" He hissed, spying the redhead at the end of the darkened corridor.

"Sir?"

"Have you seen Miss Granger?" Ginny's face gave away her question: why was he asking.

"Yes, sir. We went to Hogsmeade earlier."

"Did she make it back to the castle?"

"Yes." Ginny nodded. "About an hour ago I think. Is something wrong, sir? Are Harry and Ron alright?"

"Everything is fine. Goodnight, Miss Weasley." He was leaving before he had finished.

He only knew one place to check: the Prefects bathroom, the one nearby she had said she often used. It was the last place to check before he raised any alarm.

Why would Granger have just failed to show up at their planned time? Was she being spelled?

He approached the door slowly, hating that he even had to be there. He grimaced a little as he got close, keeping an eye out in case whoever was following her might be spying. He felt sick to his stomach knowing what he looked like, creeping up to a student bathroom, even though it was for safety.

Knowing her favorite spells, he lifted them wordlessly. He was close enough to hear music—but not the pop he expected, some slow yet up beat jazz. Something about it made his shoulders loosen. The door was unlocked.

Closing his eyes so as not to see anything, he opened the door silently, carefully, just enough to smell the lavender. It was her, he was fairly certain. It made sense.

He was softly closing the door when he heard it: a small sigh. It was her voice, Granger's, so relaxed and contented. Something about it hit him square in the chest. He snapped the door shut and strode away.

* * *

Sunday was no day of rest. Hermione Granger had rested enough. She had work to do, school work. She had come back after all, as someone had pointed out the previous day. She felt more herself rising so early she slipped into the kitchens to grab a spot of breakfast from the elves, then plunging headfirst into the library, becoming totally devoured by the books.

She was lost in the smell of paper and ink quills and in the words engulfing her snugly for hours. She lost track of time. The angle of the light pouring in changed. People came and went, hurrying to finish assignments at the last minute. It all happened around her, none of it to her. It was the way she preferred it, though.

"Miss Granger." She heard Snape behind her. It was only then realized the light was low and the long table at which she sat deserted.

"Yes?" She asked, looking up from her book and out the window. A line of black birds crossed the patch of sky.

"When I suggested you deviate from your routine as much as possible," She turned to face him. "I did not mean to imply you should make plans to work with myself then fail to make them without so much as a note." His annoyance was obvious by the end of his statement.

"Plans?"

"Our agreement was Saturday, was it not?"

She did not realize he meant they were to start Occlumency lessons _this_ Saturday. But she did not want to fumble out her anxious answer like a startled student. She worked hard to keep her emotions in check again. "I'm sorry. I changed my mind. I thought I made that clear."

"Did you?"

"I am not your responsibility." She said as nonchalantly as she could, her eyes scanning the page she was on a moment ago. "I know you only made the offer under the pretense of an exchange to help me. I did not realize I'd solicited so much concern and pity, but I think I've imposed enough on you, and taken enough of the headmistress' time as well." She faced him standing, a heavy book resting on her hips, closed.

"You needn't worry. I'm sure, as you say, you have quite enough on your plate." She made to pass him, return her books to the shelf. She heard nothing for a moment, assumed he had gone in a billow of robes.

"Miss Granger," His voice was soft again. It made her feel uncomfortable.

She turned to face him, her arms around herself, back leaning on the bookshelf. "I'd hate for you to be the victim of any more unwanted advances," She told him. "Attacks by fist or poison, or insulting allegations. If the attacks are as you say aimed at me, you would do best to distance yourself from me."

She stepped away to collect the rest of her books from the long table. She seemed to have stunned him into silence. Speaking mostly to the table, she added, "And if I were to spend every Saturday evening with you, I'd hate for you to suffer the humiliation of what would doubtlessly be said."

"Miss Granger, please." The earnestness in his voice stayed her hand. She was glad she could not see his face. "You know very well I do not care much for the opinion of others. I was insulted Mr. Weasley seemed sure I would disgrace my office by betraying my vow as a teacher. I take my word and my position very seriously."

"I know." She said softly, finishing collecting her volumes. She had to face him. There was no choice. The shelf she needed was behind him.

He looked at her and spoke deliberately and slowly. "I am fully prepared to be targeted for helping you if I am not, as you believe, the target already. And I assure you I allowed Mr. Weasley one hit since I did as he accused, but I will not allow him another one."

She could not think of anything to say for a moment. "How's your nose?" She dared a shy half smile.

"Fine, thank you, but you knew that. You healed me." His words were tight. He waited impatiently for a real response.

She took a step forward. He drew in breath as she did so, his chest swelled. His face was stone as she leaned towards his body. She simply pressed the books into the shelf behind him. Her arm did not even touch him as she straightened again. He released the breath. She thought, suppressing a smirk, that he almost rolled his eyes at himself for stiffening.

Crossing her arms against herself, she considered him for a moment. The other night, he had seemed sincere and gentle. But in the hospital wing, he had seemed bitter and cruel. Now, he seemed kinder than before, almost sorry. Is this what Riddle had felt like, or Dumbledore? How did the old man know which side of him was real? Would he ever let anyone know him again?

"I don't understand you." She said at last. There, that got a reaction. Both eyebrows shot upwards, his arms crossed his chest as well.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his posture relaxing but his gaze not.

It was hard to say the next bit. It made her feel a little vulnerable, a feeling she'd had enough of, but she thought herself an adult who had the right to be honest. "I thought you wanted to be friends." She admitted.

"Wanted?" She blinked. "Miss Granger," He took a step forward, his voice low and quiet between them. "Although the nature of our relationship is… unusual, and you are my student, I do consider you a friend of sorts." His expression was pained, words coming slowly. "I'm sorry for my language yesterday and for Weasleys'. It was insensitive.

"I would like to offer my tutelage and any help I can offer, but I would also like your help assistance, even if you decline my offer, with my research and writing projects. You are made, I believe, for this type of work, and I would ask no one else."

She nodded. Maybe it was that she could not deny anyone help, maybe it was the compliment that seduced her, the idea of finally being appreciated for her mind. Maybe it was just pure curiosity to see what Snape was really like, if she could ever glimpse such a thing. Whatever it was, she had agreed. There was no going back.

"Shall we?" He asked, and turned on the spot, robes behind him. She swallowed and hurried after his long strides. So it began, she supposed, their work.

* * *

A/N: Well, are you relieved? Curious to see how the work goes? What about things with Ron? Do you agree with Snape it's someone in the castle? Next chapter is her lesson and some one on one time with Snape. Lucky girl. Please take a second to review. I can't wait to post more once I hear from you. Thanks for reading!

Yours,

Elsie


	9. Week

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. I make no money from this.

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A/N: Good news we broke the 50 reviews point last chapter and over 100 followers! Thanks so much.

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Chapter 9: Week

* * *

Severus Snape strode swiftly to the dungeons, keeping an ear out for her scurrying behind.

This woman was so confounding. She had been hurt when he confronted her, not angry, not irrational so that he could be dismissive. He had never dreamed his efforts to disassociate himself from the motives he was being accused of having would be taken as personal insult to Miss Granger.

When Weasley had arrived at his door with Potter, he had begrudgingly let them inside.

_"I'm assuming you're here about Miss Granger." They had nodded. "I'm surprised you have not come earlier." He admitted._

_"Why?" Harry asked in earnest._

_Snape raised an eyebrow. "She does not seem herself." He said carefully._

_"You don't really know her." Mr. Weasley told him pointedly. Severus had tilted his head in agreement. He did not. Then again, if even he noticed, should not they have as well? The potion master waited, but the pair said nothing further as he dropped in cradic root into his brew with a hiss and small pop._

_"You seem to be taking this calmly." He commented impatiently. Weren't they the ones that came here to talk then stood awkwardly silent in his office?_

_Weasley let out a cold laugh. "I know she would never kiss you on purpose. I'm wondering who could have brewed that and gotten it to her and why you did not stop her."_

_"What exactly are you implying?" He asked dangerously over the simmering cauldron. He would not be accused in his own of taking advantage of the girl, whether her jealous boyfriend was a war hero or no._

_"Ron," Potter aptly warned his friend. The red head shrugged him off._

_"Please. We all know Hermione is a good looking woman." Snape did not trust himself to speak, rage brewing in him. "I reckon you are lonely." Weasley went on, but he stopped him there._

_ "Lonely enough to attack one of my students, lovely or not? Absolutely not. I was under the effects of a potion—"_

_"Hang on," the boy rudely interrupted him, blinking dumbly. "You were under the effect of the potion? But Hermione said—"_

_He had stepped into trouble then, Severus knew, but he was tired of lying. He had been perfecting the art for nearly two decades, and he had gotten so good at it he almost got himself killed on more than one occasion. Living to see Riddle vanquished meant he need not lie anymore._

_Miss Granger had gotten herself into this, was prepared to take the consequences. "I kissed Miss Granger." He confessed._

_Potter made a sour face he swiftly tried erase. Snape smirked at the insult. Of course he would be disgusted, a greasy, old dungeon bat attacking their golden girl. Weasley floundered for words. "You…hang on, what?!"_

_Severus sighed, exasperated, and rounded his table to bear down on the young man. He liked him better when he was in his class, too afraid and incompetent to speak to him this way. "I was given the potion first. Miss Granger came to my office for detention and I set upon her with my lips, quite against my will, I assure you."_

_Perhaps it was a poor choice of words. He had not been expecting the fist that collided painfully with his face or the blood that filled his mouth. Bit naïve of him really._

_"Against your will my arse!" Weasley roared. Potter had grabbed him, but not quickly enough._

_"Hold tight to your friend, Potter, or I will hex him into oblivion." He said from behind his hand, trying to stem the flow of blood. Unless he was much mistaken, the little goblin had broken his nose. Potter nodded with understanding, restraining the other. "I was put to rights but she was slipped the same potion…"_

_"How?"_

_"I do not know."_

_"Pervert!"_

_"Ron!" Potter tried to calm him, but the boy—well, young man Severus supposed—was growing red as his hair._

_"I'm frankly unimpressed at your selfish lack of concern for her general state and the fact that someone seems to be stalking your girlfriend." Severus spat. "I have done more to protect the young woman who continually saved your asses than you have!"_

_They balked at that. "What the hell do you mean?"_

_"What is going on here?" Interrupted the sharp voice of McGonagall as the headmistress appeared. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley what are—Severus, are you alright? My wards indicated a teacher was being attacked and I —oh, let's get to the hospital wing at once."_

_"No need." He said darkly, waving off her concern with his hand._

_"I insist. All of you, before you're seen. I want to know precisely what this is about, though I have my suspicions." She glared at her former students._

Then, of course, came the disaster in the hospital wing. Miss Granger had been caught in her lies and her boyfriend had managed to insult in her in three of four various ways without noticing it.

His own attempts to assure the group he was not in fact a pervert who had enjoyed the situation had come across to Granger as a personal insult. He should have known; she was sensitive. He had meant he hardly took any joy in forcing himself on her, preferred willing lovers—very willing, actually—but she had taken the comments to mean she herself was undesirable.

He could not very well tell her otherwise outright. That might make him a pervert. Another wrinkle of anger at that red-headed buffoon crossed his face: _he_ should have told her she was desirable.

Perhaps, Severus could make it up to her, even if could not correct it. So he found her in the library, the most obvious place to look.

Finally, he had figured out how to get her to agree to his help, the lessons. It was a tad ridiculous, he felt, that he had to work so hard to get her to let him heal her. He could say little, however. The headmaster had the same problem with him in the past. However, he refused help because he did not think himself worthy; she resisted out of pride, some unreasonable standard she had placed on herself.

He guessed that if he convinced her that _he_ wanted her help, then she would agree. His hypothesis was correct; she agreed. Her selflessness again staggered him.

She made no sense.

* * *

Hermione tried not to tremble, her wand out, as she stood across from the potions master in his office.

"Relax." He told her. She nodded. Honestly, she tried.

"No." He lowered his wand. The man strode towards her. He was wearing just black pants and a loose white shirt. The sleeves were rolled up again, but she tried not to stare at his forearms.

She did not move as he stepped behind her, but she started a little at the touch of his hands on her shoulders. He squeezed. For a moment, the muscles ached. Then, warmth seeped into them from his large hands. When he released, the heat went too, and her tight muscles relaxed as well. She had not known she was so tense, so knotted. "Relax." He instructed, repeating the motions along the back of her neck over and over.

Each touch hurt a bit, then felt better than before. Her head tipped back a little on its own. She was embarrassed at the sound behind her lips. "Mmm."

He finished his ministration at once and let go. "Better?" He asked, his deep voice vibrating behind her. They were close but no longer touching.

She nodded. "Yes."

"I need you to trust me."

"I do." She insisted.

"Not just with your life."

She laughed. "Then how?"

"Trust me to help. Trust that no harm will come to you in this room."

She inhaled very slowly. "Okay."

He strode back in front of her, closer than before. There was a foot of air in between them.

"Put away our wand." She hesitated, but did so as he did the same. "Close your eyes." He told her.

"Now, breathe deeply."

She took in a breath; it shuddered on its own.

"Evenly." His soft voice said. She tried. The harder she concentrated, the more complicated breathing suddenly became.

"In…and out." He paused. "In and out." It was hard to force herself to go slowly, to wait so long between breaths. She tried to ignore the sound of his footsteps nearing again. "May I?" His voice came from beside her.

She barely kept herself from jumping at the sound; her eyes flew open involuntarily. Snape looked at her, perhaps annoyed.

She let out her breath in a puff that fanned stray hair from her face. "Sorry. I didn't think it would be this hard." She wrinkled her nose.

"You're too tense." He observed. She said nothing. "Try again."

She grew more frustrated as she failed, not once but twice more. Hermione Granger did not fail.

"You cannot relax if you're frustrated."

"It's just so simple!" She barely kept herself from stamping her foot. Oh yes, that would look mature.

He was standing by her again, making her nervous as he scrutinized her progress, or lack thereof.

She could sense she was not the only one growing tired of this. His face was scrunched in conflict a moment. "I may have to put my hands on you." He warned, waiting for her approval. "For your lesson." She nodded. He was not satisfied, his hands still hovering around her. He grimaced a little. "I need to know this will not make you more uncomfortable, given, well, what I did to you."

She could not help but give him a sympathetic look. "Please, professor, think nothing of it."

"I wish that I could." He admitted, adding quickly, "It was unforgivable."

"It was not your fault!" She snapped. "And anyway, would you stop acting as if you subjected me to some dreadful torture. You kissed me," She felt him bristle. She thought saying it aloud my take away some of the tension around the word. It did not. "Accidentally." She added. "It's not as if you drank my blood, or something. I think you're being a bit overdramatic about the whole thing."

"Really?" He stood to his full height, voice beginning to grow angry. "I'm sorry betraying Albus by snogging my student seems such a minor offense to you."

"A betrayal," She narrowed her eyes into his, bravely. "Is intentional. You've being over dramatic about the act itself. It's not as if you …well it wasn't…"

He watched her fumble, puzzled.

"I wasn't _scarred_ by it, professor." She told him frankly, folding her arms. She mumbled to the floor: "I've had worse." She wasn't sure if he heard her. He stepped away, thoughtfully, looking out the narrow window above him.

"Lavender helps you relax, I take it." He said to the wall.

"It does. Sometimes the chamomile tea."

He nodded, retrieving something from a shelf. He began burning the herb, lavender. It spread throughout the closed office in little time. He pulled out a chair, indicating it to her. "Sit."

He summoned a matching chair from the opposite side of the room catching it and setting it down across from her with one hand and taking his seat. He scooted the chair forward underneath him. Giving it a second's thought, he scooted it closer still, so their knees were almost touching.

"Give me your hands." She extended them, palms up. Her sleeves were a bit too long, so he began to roll up her sleeves. She flinched away instinctively, making his eyes snap to her.

She nervously glanced at her forearm. When he removed his hand from the spot, the crudely carved "Mudblood" stared up at them. It still hurt. It must be her imagination.

He winced. "Yes," He drawled quietly, rubbing and exposing his own arms. "We all have our marks. Yours is no more of you than mine is of me."

"Well not quite." She said quietly. "You're not a death eater. I am a mudblood."

He glared. His voice was deep as he said, enunciating every syllable, "Do not ever. Ever. Call yourself that again."

"Why not?" She balked. It was true. "My parents are muggles. I'm not ashamed."

"Then say muggleborn; don't you dare degrade yourself by using their language of false, hypocritical ideologies." He hissed.

She shrugged.

"You are better than them!" Her head snapped up at the harshness of his words. It sounded more like an accusation than a compliment, and he said it so quickly, wiped his face clean of emotion so suddenly, he looked as though he had not spoken.

She nodded her thanks.

"Close your eyes." He said again, but the command was gentle. She did so and waited for further instruction. He took her hands in his larger ones, gently rubbing them open, pressing his thumbs into her palms. He messaged there, squeezing lightly the center. His long fingers softly brushed hers. He worked very slowly.

"Breathe. Release when I release you." She matched her breathing to his ministrations on her hand, focusing on the contact. His hands were tougher yet warmer than she had expected. She could smell the familiar office smells, but was also close enough to catch his scent and the room held the peaceful scent of lavender. Apart from their breathing, there was no sound.

It was perfectly dark, and her eyes were closed, sitting upright in her chair. Yet she felt as if perhaps they were suspended in the darkness, floating a few inches above the ground amongst the smoke swirls from the burning lavender. It was so gloriously black and empty.

There was no homework, no threat, no memories, no one even to remember. There was just… nothing. Just air moving in and out of her lungs, sweet air moving steadily, rhythmically. Those calming movements on her palms, her wrist. No pain. No anxiousness. It wasn't numb; it was better.

A few minutes passed, maybe a few seconds, maybe the whole night; she did not know. She did not care as she began to enjoy herself, felt her shoulders relax again. She could feel herself smiling faintly.

Abruptly, the peace was interrupted— by a smell of all things. It was the steam off warm, hearty food. He let go of her hand.

She waited a moment before opening her eyes. His dark ones were watching her carefully. "That was incredible." She breathed. She thought beneath his mask he might look pleased. "What was that exactly?"

"Nothing." He said emphatically.

"Can we do it some more?"

"It's time for dinner." He told her with a glance to his door.

"Already?" He nodded, seeming to enjoy the fact she had been thrown off. "I thought it had only been a few minutes."

"Half an hour, in fact." He opened the door. "Shall we?"

"Yes, thank you." She sounded a little nervous having a meal with him again, even if it was for private instruction's sake.

* * *

She followed him through to his private chambers again, taking her seat on the settee. The bathrobe in the corner was gone, she noticed, and the room lit a little brighter. He sat across from her in his usual chair, the table before them set with tea and shepherd's pie. She tried not to think of her mother as she accepted hers. Her mother made such wonderful Shepard's pie.

And she avoided glancing at his bed. They ate in silence a moment.

"I don't see why Harry dreaded his training so much," She tried to pay him a compliment, feeling it should come easier than it did. "Though I doubt we've gotten to anything truly difficult."

"I began Potter's training with a different goal and a different mind. He needed to focus on defense, his strong suit, and I perhaps underestimated the simplicity of emptying his mind. I believed," He stirred his tea, sitting relaxed in his chair. "That it was already relatively empty."

She gave him a small smile at that, catching his humor. At the first bite, her appetite surfaced with a vengeance. It took restraint for her to remain as polite as possible.

"When was the last time you ate?" He asked her. She frowned at him. "I looked for you at lunch." He added.

She did not take kindly to be watched, even if it was out of kind concern. "I had a scone this morning."

"I could go into the permanent damage this type of under eating does to one's bones, even with dietary supplements, but I assume you would already know about that or could read it."

He was right of course, and her teeth. Her parents would be mortified.

"I just don't seem to get around to it, which sounds lame even to me." She changed the subject. "This is quite good. Thanks for having me to stay after. I did not realize how hungry I was."

He tilted his head in welcome, but his face was creased with the awkwardness that had descended.

"May I ask what that is?" She nodded towards the flower under the glass, slipping her fork into her mouth and pulling it out clean.

"Curious as ever." He drawled. She opened her mouth to retract her prying question, but he answered, "I have no idea, to be honest." He glanced at it over his shoulder. "Albus gave it to me."

At this, she laughed softly, shaking her head. The sound seemed to take him off guard. "That sounds like him." She explained.

"Quite." He smiled, a little sadly. "He certainly took pleasure in being pointedly obscure. Once he," He stopped himself, thinking better of it and finishing his dinner instead.

"Gone on," She pressed, setting down her plate. "I wish I'd known him better." It was true. Dumbledore was always kind to her, and technically he had even left her something, but it was Harry that spent time with the headmaster. She occasionally wondered if Dumbledore would have taken less of an interest in her or more if she weren't friends with Harry Potter.

Snape explained, "He once told me, he'd meet me 'at the time'— with his twinkling wink, you know. I went on and on to get his meaning, quite proud of myself for solving what I thought a complex riddle. I waited for him in London that evening, at what I thought was the intended spot, but he never came. When I returned to see what was wrong, it turned out he just meant at the clock." He shook his head.

She had never heard his voice take that tone before, wistful. She smiled and nodded. "He had such a wicked sense of humor." She said. "He seemed to enjoy it when he led people to believe he was teetering between eccentric and barmy."

Snape nodded, his figure relaxing even more. "He did, but he constantly plotted, like an old woman." He smirked. "I used to tell him as much." He sipped his tea thoughtfully. "He could get away with such things."

She nodded in understanding. "I felt as if he was almost smirking—his portrait—when I was in there…"

"I thought that as well. Should you have told him you were unscarred, as you put it, I daresay he'd have a good laugh at our expense."

"It's so hard to picture him much younger, less wise." She said thoughtfully. "I'll bet he was devastatingly cute and mischievous as a child."

"I cannot picture him as a child." Snape admitted, sipping the rest of his tea.

"It's strange, isn't it?" She said, cleaning her plate. "You get older, and you feel the same, wondering why that's not what people see."

"More true than you know, Miss Granger." His tone was impressed. He stared behind her at the fire, practically slouching in his armchair. She spied the little flower of his shoulder again.

"So, the lesson. Did I fail terribly?" She asked as she set down her cup.

"Not at all. It's always a rough start as we figure things out, select an approach, but I'd say you made tremendous progress. We need to help you clear your mind."

"What goal am I working towards, if I may?"

"You may not," came his curt reply. "For now, you don't need to work towards anything. You will have a standard you inflict upon yourself in mind and self-consciousness won't let you clear your mind. We will continue to do what we did tonight until it becomes easier. That alone should help."

"Yes, sir. I won't take up anymore of your time." She stood. "Thank you again for dinner." He seemed tired. "No need to get up. I can let myself out. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Granger." He murmured, his fingers resting under his chin, black eyes fixed on the fire.

Her stomach full, her work completed, she felt sleepy. Half asleep, she trekked to her bed, readied, and crawled inside with a sigh.

The moment she woke to the sun in her eyes and an owl tapping on her glass, she realized Severus Snape had kept his promise. She had not slept perfectly, but deeper than she had slept in months. Her body did not ache as badly. Her eyes did not fight her.

She also knew she was now utterly at Snape's mercy. She'd agree to practically anything to get into that office again for another lesson, to get rest.

She only had to wait one week. It was going to be a long one.

* * *

A/N: How did you like their first lesson? Kinda tense, huh? ;)

Thanks for reading. Please take a second to review. The more reviews, the faster I write, the faster I up-date. Next chapter is ready to go, and it's fun. Someone unexpected makes an appearance, and there's some fall out... ready to see?

Yours,

Elsie


	10. Worry

Disclaimer: I do not own. Make no claim.

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A/N: Welcome back, you wonders! I have to share with you a seriously dramatic, nearly very tragic tale. I had just written the entire climax of this story right through the action mystery solving reveal and had a lovely time doing that until one in the morning. Woke up the next day and ...none of my saves had saved. ALL OF IT WAS GONE. Thousands of words, over ten hours, pages and pages-vanished. I could have cast a killing curse, but after a meltdown and hours of working, I managed to recover it! Crisis averted.

That being said, I then logged onto to see there were fewer reviews for the last chapter. If you did not like it as much, do let me know why.

Hope you enjoy this one!

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Chapter 10: Worry

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Said week started out swimmingly. Hermione's eyes were clamped tight shut, fighting against the light. It was only when the incessant tapping would not stop that Hermione rose and opened the window. Frigid wind blew in with the bird, fluttering back her robe.

"Brrr!" She paid the owl and sent it off as fast as possible so she could close the window. Her desk was thankfully closer to the fireplace. Two letters had arrived. The first was from Ron again.

_Hermione,_

_I'm sorry for punching Snape and for upsetting you, love. I really am._

_Love Ron_

It was simple. Ron's apologies always were. But he meant them; after all, he was far too stubborn to apologize if he did not mean it. She re-read his note and noticed he used the word love twice. Granted it did not say he loved her—Ron did not find it easy to say. But he said the word twice, so maybe he was trying to say it. Did he love her, she found herself wondering, or did he think he did?

"Hermione's not a romantic." Ron had once told Ginny when his sister was teasing him about his tight lipped nature when it came affection. "She doesn't need to hear it." Hermione gave her boyfriend a scathing glare that shrunk him back from that, but it still didn't give him the courage he needed to say it, save perhaps once in a while under exigent circumstances.

She was not going to _ask_ for affirmation.

She set aside the letter without answering it for the time being; anyone worth their salt would be watching her mail if they had it out for her. There was another letter, this one from Harry. It was her lucky day, she thought sarcastically, opening it as well.

_Dear Hermione,_

_Thanks a ton for your help. This thing is seriously amazing. I can't believe you did it in only a few days. You could put other bookmakers out of business, I'm guessing._

_I'm sorry about the other day. I really just tried to find out what was going on and keep Ron in line. I failed. But I am worried about you. Be angry with me if you want. Please let Snape help you. You can trust him, and he's brilliant._

_Best of luck with school work._

_Harry._

She took out her quill and set to work determinedly.

_Harry,_

_I'm not angry with you, but you may be angry with me. I know you are both so busy with training and I'm not trying to be a killjoy over your party yesterday—it's not like you've had one recently. You deserve a little fun, but I took your advice and have been letting Snape help me get my mind cleared. He mentioned you've been writing to him as well, and I think that's great. Your mum would probably be pleased. He is with me on worrying about your self-medication. I know auror training is stressful, Harry, but when habits are coping mechanisms they can become addictions. Yes, I read that somewhere._

_You know you can always talk to me, about anything._

_Miss you terribly._

_Hermione_

It was not exactly what she wanted to say, but letters never were. She was so much better at explaining things in person. Letters always sounded like they required you to word things in the worst way possible. She guessed that was why her letters always ended up being longer than they should, using too many words to explain why they weren't quite the right ones.

With a sigh, she saw it was still too early. Since she had let the owl go, she trekked the desolate halls to the owlry to post her response to Harry.

It was down to breakfast after that. After sleeping properly for once, she found her appetite had returned. Steaming eggs, tomatoes, sausage and hash browns pilled on her plate, her mouth was watering. Having risen early, and less groggily, she was actually able to make it half way through the fry up before her meal was disturbed.

**_Golden Trio Split by Betrayal_**

_Sources confirm that Miss Hermione Granger, fighter at the Battle of Hogwarts and friend of the Chosen One, has recently split from her boyfriend, hero Ronald Weasley. _

_The muggleborn girl, who formerly dated both Victor Krum and Harry Potter, currently continues to study at Hogwarts School with Mr. Weasey's younger sister, rumored girlfriend of Harry Potter himself. The strings are certainly wound tightly together in this circle, perhaps too tightly. _

_Mr. Weasley, Granger's most recent victim, is the War Hero and longtime best friend of Harry Potter._

_Defeater of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has refused to make a statement about the reason for the split, but given Miss Granger's history, rumors abound that she has already moved on…to a mysterious man. Harry Potter has been seen since in public with Mr. Weasley—not be confused with his brother, owner of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes—and not Miss Granger, though she may be preoccupied with school. _

_Miss Granger chose to return to Hogwarts for her final year of study after going missing with Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley for a year, despite being offered a Ministry of Magic position by Minister Shacklebolt himself. She had never commented on her reasons._

_Not to worry, Mr. Weasley. There are a line of witches who are interested in this soon-to-be auror. _

Hermione laughed aloud, shaking her head. That belonged in the gossip column, not the front page. She did not know what was more amusing—that Ron was her latest 'victim' or the look that would be on Severus Snape's face when he read he was a 'mysterious man'.

Feeling rather humorous about the whole thing, Hermione snapped up her Prophet and headed to the dungeons.

"Professor," She laughed as she entered his office with the paper in hand.

A blonde head turned around to face her, grey eyes wide in surprise.

Hermione blinked, taking a moment to speak. "Draco?"

Something seemed to catch in Malfoy's throat as he heard her use his given name. She was suddenly a little pleased she had left her sleeves rolled up, something she was usually careful to avoid—what had happened to her in his house was clearly visible. His steely eyes feel on the scars, and he looked a little sick.

"Miss Granger." He bowed his head politely.

"What are you doing here?" She asked.

He blinked in surprise at her frankness. "I am here for Professor Snape to—why are you here? Detention?" He smirked.

To his surprise, she smirked back. "Getting Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape."

"Occlumency?" He frowned.

"Someone might be trying to kill me," She told him coyly. His pale eyebrows raised. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"No." He said firmly. "I do not." She nodded. Snape burst through the door from his private quarters, robes billowing. He stopped short when he saw them.

"Mr. Malfoy, here's your letter." He handed over a piece of parchment as if handing over a bomb.

"Thank you, sir. I'll leave you to it." He left as quickly as he could. "Granger." He barely managed on his way out the door.

"How is he doing?" She asked the potions master, taking the man by surprise.

"Fine. He is looking for a job at the moment and his father's name is blackened. As his head of house for seven years, I offered him my letter of recommendation."

"I see."

"I could ask Harry to vouch for him." This too was clearly not what Snape had expected her to say. "Malfoy's not nice, but he's not a killer."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Did you need something, Miss Granger?"

"No, sir." She answered, turning to leave. She thought better of the idea. Perhaps he would not find the article as humorous as she did. Who knew what Severus Snape found amusing,_ 'mysterious man'_ that he was…she sniggered.

* * *

Severus Snape was surprised by Miss Granger. He really should not have been. He should have known her apt mind would take to the training so well, but she had outdone his expectations of her yet again.

He had hoped she might be able to unwind after a couple lessons, relax a bit, cool that racing heart. She would be able to, he had no doubt, eventually clear her mind. He found instead that during their first lesson the witch managed to completely _empty_ it.

She had been utterly gone, her face expressionless, her body upright but asleep, breathing slowed. Her pulse tapped lazily under his thumb. When he called her from it, she had no idea how long she had been … away.

Reluctantly, he had to admit, it was fascinating. For that reason, he found himself looking forward to their next lesson.

She took even less time to settle in than before. They immediately took their seats and he reached across the small distance between them, taking her tender wrists in his palms, resting them on his knees.

His hands completely covered her as he coached her breathing. The lavender scent swirled around them. He was tempted to sneak inside his own mind, but resisted. He needed to be available to her. When wandering into the black recessed of one's mind, one sometimes came across something buried deep, a memory one had buried there as deeply as possible. It was unexpected and hard to wake.

For now, Granger smiled faintly, her body threatening to sway. He smiled at how peaceful she looked. He'd done that. Before her brow had seemed permanently creased with worry, wrinkling too young. Now she looked innocent and fresh faced as ever. He almost hated to rouse her for dinner, but it would be cold soon and he was quite hungry himself.

"Thank you, sir." She showed her gratitude so willingly. It was a refreshing change from his past students, even colleagues, even Dumbledore.

"You need not thank me every time, Miss Granger." He told her as she joined him, but he hoped she did not.

"Have you read the latest Potions Quarterly?" She asked before he'd properly tasted his bangers and mash.

He raised an eyebrow. "Of course. I take it you found something fascinating."

"Well, there was an article about a wizard in Bavaria trying to make a potion that enables one to go days without sleep and creates intense concentration."

"I suppose you'd like it as a study aide, would you?"

"Not really, but I found it fascinating. It reminds me of—"

"Something muggle, I'm sure. The truly fascinating and only original idea was the theory on the beauty potion."

"Oh yes! The idea that it does little if anything to alter one's physical appearance only one's satisfaction with it."

"And it is the confidence that changes one's appeal to others." He finished. "Incredible concept, is it not?"

"Yes." She agreed enthusiastically, sipping her tea that she held in both hands. She always held it like that, he noticed. "It's more psychological."

"And yet physiological as well." He reminded her.

"Quite. There is a lot of muggle science of pheromones our bodies produce that lead to attraction.."

"I'm familiar. I have an article somewhere by a potions master Benedict Cleaves who discusses that with regard to how love potions work, in particular Amortensia…" And for the next hour, he found they conversed quite easily on the entire publication, which was no wonder as she too had read it thoroughly and found the subject intriguing.

"I must admit," He said as he showed her out. "I never knew you found potions so riveting."

"Actually," She bit her lip as she did when she was bashful. "I've always found it interesting, but more challenging. I—I'm, well, I'm not as good at it, and it always frustrated me. You made it look easy and Harry, Ron, and Neville made it look practically impossible."

"It takes something different from the other disciplines." He acknowledged wondering if she realized she had accidentally paid him a compliment.

"Goodnight, sir." She said, leaving with a smile. Strange how much more the expression… complimented her features. She was a normal young woman in appearance, but when she smiled, she suddenly became, well, one might say, enchanting. Not him, of course. He would never.

"Take care on your walk back." He warned her automatically. Someone, he was sure, had been following her that day she panicked. Someone may be following her still.

A few days later, Severus had found her full hour early in the potions classroom. There were dark circles under her eyes again. She seemed confused, her materials for class out and ready. When she opened her mouth; he suspected she was about to ask him if the lesson had been canceled, as no one had yet arrived.

"Is there a reason you're here an hour before the lesson begins, Miss Granger?" Realizing her mistake, she blurted the first legitimate reason that came to mind.

"Sir? Are you by any chance available another night of the week? For lessons?" She chewed her lip.

"For?" He asked slowly.

"Another lesson. I'd like to make more progress."

"You are making enough progress." He said dismissively, preparing supplies for the class. "My schedule is rather full at the moment. The Harry Potter wannabes are monopolizing my weekday evenings with their detentions."

She did not give a snort of laughter at his joke. He looked up. "Is there any particular reason why?" He had asked.

"No," She shook her head, but sucked harder on her bottom lip.

"The truth." He demanded softly.

"It's just afterwards, I've been sleeping…"

"He raised an eyebrow."

"Better. I mean not all night or anything…"

"We shall meet at seven tonight." He said simply.

"Are you sure?"

"I am sure, Granger." The girl spent more time in the kitchen trying to liberate house elves and incidentally snacking than she taking meals and had not slept properly in years. He was not so cruel that he could deny her an hour.

"Then, I should be helping you."

He looked up at her appraisingly for moment. "Very well. You will stay after supper and assist me if you can keep up with your studies."

"I can." She assured him.

"Very well. Bring a copy of your guide you made for Potter and my old potions text."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

When she arrived at Grimmauld Place unannounced again, hanging her dripping raincoat in the dining room, Hermione found things in a much more typical state than before. Harry, Ron, and their houseguest George were draped lazily across the new furniture in the sitting room that she'd helped Harry pick out. George looked up in mild interest from the object he was tinkering with, his wand trained on it as he manipulated it wordlessly. Harry rested on his back on the couch, a bag of muggle crisps on his chest. A pizza box sat on the coffee table with a number of abandoned cups. Ron was slurping some gummy sweet into his mouth as she entered the room.

"Tell me that is not your dinner." She smiled at them, tugging off her scarf.

"Hermione!" Harry sat up so quickly, he spilled his crisps.

"Alright, 'Mione?" Ron asked, giving her a bashful smile. She nodded, smiling back.

"Hello, Hermione." George greeted quietly.

She went to him, planting a kiss on his cheek in lieu of asking pointlessly how he was. "Hello." She smiled.

"So," She sat by Harry on the couch as he moved his feet to make room for her. Ron sat across, reclined in a chair with his feet on the Ottoman. "Is this dinner?" She asked Harry as she plucked a salty crisp from the bag.

"'fraid so." He admitted with a shrug.

"Given up on cooking?"

"Merlin yes!" Ron shot, relieved. She laughed aloud.

"He's not a chef, no offense Harry. But he's good with breakfast." George said from the chaise to the right.

"Rubbish at baking." Ron told her.

"Baking?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Let's not." Harry changed the subject. "How are you?"

"You aren't upset about the article, are you?" Ron asked.

"You mean the one that called her a massive tart?" George joked. "Who's next Hermione?" He wagged his eyebrows. "I'm free."

"Shut it." Ron told him, glancing back to her.

"It was less than flattering," She said lightly. "But it was exactly what was needed to get whoever slipped me that potion off my back."

"Hang on." George sat up, his feet on the floor. "What potion?"

Ron looked at the floor, squirming a bit. Hermione took over, "Someone slipped me a love potion and may have been following me, trying to break Ron and I up, so we let them believe they've succeeded."

"What if that's not why?" George asked, his tone uncharacteristically dark.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "McGonagall seemed to think it might be, but if it's not, we'll soon find out, narrow down options." She turned to Harry, her turn to change the direction of conversation. "How's training?"

"Brilliant!" Harry said. Ron looked less enthusiastic. "There are some things I've been talking to the head Auror, Pericles Applewhite, about changing, given Death Eater methods have altered."

"Well, that's bold of you." She commented.

"I know!" Harry said, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "He's totally open to them. Says I'd know."

"That's great, Harry. I'm glad you're both enjoying it so much. Was the guidebook helpful?"

"Oh yes!" said Ron.

"Thanks again." Harry repeated.

"Still getting Hermione to do your work for you, boys? Tut, tut." George teased. "However would they survive without you?" He asked her.

"They wouldn't." She stated, knowing it was hardly true. "Look," She bit her lip. "I need it back."

"Sure." Harry said, munching on more crisps.

"Tonight." She clarified. He creased his brow curiously. "Please."

As Harry went to retrieve it, she followed.

"Are you and Ginny okay?" She asked.

"Brilliant." He answered. He did not sound enthused, but she did not press it.

"Good." She looked at him sideways. "You, er, got my letter?"

He swung open his bedroom door, headed towards her tome by his bed.

"Hermione, I am fine. Please stop worrying." He handed it over.

"I do need your help again." He frowned, fidgeting like he did when he was embarrassed to ask. She just stood there and let him come to it one his own. "You were right though about those girls, you know? You told Ron they weren't just there to celebrate passing our cycle of training, and afterwards this girl, May, just offered to stay around."

"The blonde?" She asked.

He nodded, continuing, "I asked her why—I didn't get it, you know?- and she tried to kiss me. I told her as politely as I could to leave." So she was correct.

He plopped down on his bed. "So here's my question: do I tell Ginny? Because I'm going to have to see May everyday anyway and nothing happened. Ron says she'll be furious, Weasley temper and all, but I felt like I should mention it…"

Before she could answer, he hurried, "Don't say anything to her, please."

"I won't, Harry, I swear." She promised. "But you've got to tell her quickly! Women find out things, Harry. What if this girl makes a comment around Ginny or she tries again and some takes a picture?" She babbled quickly. "Ginny has a temper, yes, but she cares for you more. And I'll encourage her to get over it. She might curse the girl, but it's always better to look honest!"

Her friend nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm glad I took your advice, by the way." He looked up at her. She sat down next to him. "Snape is helping me clear my mind every Saturday night. He's agreed to help me tonight as well, but I'm going to help him afterwards, so I need this." She held up the notebook.

"He says he thinks someone is after you. He also says you're not eating." He looked older than he used to, an adult. His green eyes might have been cold if it weren't for the glistening of concern.

"Well, I guess I know why you've been writing to him," She laughed breathlessly. "You've been spying on me!"

"No. I'm just worried."

"Me too." She squeezed his hand.

"You think I'll become a drunk." He accused angrily.

"No. I think it's a bad idea to use it to help you sleep." He said nothing. Maybe she was overacting "Sirius did it." She added quietly. Harry had worried about Sirius's drinking. Even Remus had mentioned him cutting back. But Sirius had no cared. He was invincible, or he was going to go down fighting. He did not need to take care of himself.

The man next to her sighed wearily. He was not ready to listen, so she gave up. "I have to go meet Snape." She stood. Harry offered her a small smile.

"Oh!" She recalled "Draco Malfoy was at Hogwarts today getting a letter of recommendation from Snape. Trying to find work, apparently, but blacklisted because of his father."

"Times change." He commented dryly.

"I'm sure even an honest opinion from you might help him, if you feel generous."

"Was he nice to you?" He demanded.

"Actually, yes, he didn't even call me mud—" For some reason her promise to Snape not to use that word again leapt to mind. "He didn't insult me."

He nodded, as if to say he'd consider the idea.

"Good luck with your lesson." He wished her.

"Good luck with training. Give Ron and George my love! I really have to go." She hurried back to Hogwarts for her lesson.

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A/N: So what do you think of Harry's predicament? Hermione's advice and Draco's appearance?

Who's up for some pranks, tears, and one wholly compromising situation? I am. I'm feeling rather Slytherin again. I'd love to hear from you so the second we out-do the number of reviews from last time, I'll post the next Snape-y lesson.

Yours,

Elsie


	11. Well

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Just having fun.

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A/N: Thank you once again. As promised, as soon as we beat the last chapter for reviews, here's the new one. Welcome to all the new favorites and followers-thank you! This is tad short, but I do hope you have fun with this one...

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Chapter 11: Well

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"Relax." The smell of lavender filled the dark room again. Snape's voice rumbled nearby, his fingers rubbing into her palms expertly. She bit back a moan. He had practically jumped out of his skin last time her body had made the sound involuntarily.

She was floating again, in the darkness. The only thing keeping her from drifting off into space were these strong hands anchoring her, so dexterous as they worked, so gentle as they touched her.

"Breathe in… breathe out." She obeyed his deep voice, more than willing to do anything.

It had been days since she had slept properly. It wasn't nightmares, not usually. Sometimes, it was sounds. She slept so lightly that if Crookshanks knocked something off a table, or mewed, or wanted in or out, she sat up, grabbing for her wand. Sometimes, she just laid there, exhausted, face hurting waiting for hours to fall asleep, but she couldn't. She'd check the time, count backwards, check it again, saying to herself: 'if I can just get to sleep right now, I'll get five hours of sleep…four hours of sleep…three…might as well get up then.'

Once she was up, she could barely keep her eyes open. She went to the wrong classrooms at the wrong times, even forgot to do an assignment on Ancient Runes. Being tired even changed her appetite—she was either forgetting to eat all day or hungry all day. Thankfully, the elves like Winky weren't bothered by her random dropping in for a snack. The only regular thing about her meals were the ones she had with Severus after her lessons, which he may have done away with altogether for the sake of propriety and solitude if she weren't thin and consistently absent from the great hall during meal times.

He did not hound her with questions; he was smart enough to know it would do no good. Instead, he quietly made sure she had eaten the entire portion of her meal before she left, and she suspected he'd asked the house elves to make hers a little larger. She said nothing.

One occasion, she had work to do and was rather in a hurry, full from the pork tenderloin with spiced apples. She left a few bites remaining, standing to bid him goodnight.

His hand reached up from the arms of his chair, barely catching her sleeve. "Miss Granger," He said with polite surprise. "You have not finished your meal." He indicated the plate. She opened her mouth to argue, but could tell from his expression and patient tone that doing so would only trigger his anger, and she would wish she had just eaten it by the time he had lectured her on her health and threatened to tell Madam Pompfrey and the Headmistress that she was neglecting herself.

With a sigh, she had reluctantly retook her seat and finished what remained, though it was not her favorite by any means. He nodded in satisfaction when the plate was cleaned.

As if to push the envelope, her lasagna the following Saturday was accompanied by a chocolate éclair. She had narrowed her eyes, wondering if he'd gotten lucky or simply asked Harry what was her favorite dessert.

"I see the elves have sent dessert." He had remarked innocently. She shot him a look that said she knew exactly what he was up to and she was not fooled, but she smiled slightly. He was just trying to help. Merlin knew why, probably guilt knowing Snape, but he was. Silently agreeing to speak no further about it, effectively act as if it weren't happening, the pair ate their chocolate éclairs without comment.

They were difficult to eat in front of someone, she had noticed then. Hermione liked to lick the chocolate off first, but catching Snape's eyes on her, she had quickly abandoned that, taking the whole tip into her mouth and shoving in a big bite. The cream filling had dripped onto her lips and she had licked them clean, closing her eyes to savor the richness. It was so sweet … so good.

"Open your eyes." His voice called her out of the darkness and memory. She opened them to see he had released her hands and was looking at her in a strange way.

"What were you thinking about?" He asked.

"Nothing—" she began, but realized that wasn't true. Her stomach growled. She had been thinking about food. Their lessons always worked up her appetite. "Chocolate éclairs." She wondered how he had known she was thinking of something. Was he reading her mind? Or had she actually moaned?

He nodded, accepting her answer though he brushed his hair from his eyes and stood.

Soup and fresh bread was for dinner, with salad. It was too filling, the bread and lettuce expanding inside her shrunken stomach. She could not finish it.

Snape raised a warning eyebrow as she abandoned her fork.

"I can't. I'm too full."

"Perhaps you would not be filled so easily if you ate regularly." He said through his teeth.

She sighed, feeling childish. "I'm not a child." She heard herself say, surprising both of them.

He did not speak for a moment. His face was cold as usual as he pressed his fingertips together. "No," he said thoughtfully, staring at the flower pattern on the carpet. "You most certainly are not a child."

She swallowed at that. So Snape did not view her as a child any longer? Somehow this felt like progress, but she did not know why.

She was definitely not thinking like a child, as he subconsciously rubbed his mark. Those powerful hands ground into that white, marble flesh, and all she could think of was how those arms looked so soft on the surface they couldn't possibly be as hard and solid as they had been when wrapped around her waist.

He shoved down his sleeves, catching her gaze. She grabbed her tea cup to hide her face and looked interested in reading her tea leaves, which she _certainly_ was not. "Does it bother you so much?" He asked.

She shook her head. "I wasn't staring at your mark."

He clearly did not believe her. Worse, he seemed affronted, or self-conscious.

"I was," She blushed looking down. "Staring at your arms, sir." She said it tersely, shoving a spoon of hot soup into her mouth to save her from having to say anything else.

His eyebrows raised in surprise, frowning slightly, but he said nothing.

"Is that sufficient?" She asked. Her bowl was not clean, and a spring or two lettuce remained to wilt, but most of her meal was gone.

He nodded.

* * *

Thus, the pair began their work, which was mostly the laborious task of sorting through her guidebook and his text.

"Perhaps," She suggested, "You could start by marking the potions currently in the text that you would like to use, indicating the appropriate year." She produced little squares of colored paper. "They stick." She explained, handing them to him. He took them reluctantly, watching her scribble notes on some and stick them on the pages to her records stuck out. "Then you could show me which instructions you've altered and which bits of these texts are out of date information."

"Your explanations of theory or muggle science are helpful." He admitted. "Brief enough even students may read them."

She laughed. It surprised him, a real laugh. Her color changed again, the way it did when she smiled. Her eyes, her hair in the firelight, her skin- she looked sort of golden. He shook his head, clearing it.

"I'd like you to catalog all your added notes, so that I might sort through them on each subject."

"Yes, sir." She replied. "Perhaps if you loaned me the Half Blood Prince text."

"No." He said simply.

She frowned. "Why not?"

He looked at her pointedly, but said nothing. She dropped her eyes to her work, accepting his decision. It was not fair, he knew, and not really polite, but if Granger did more than skim his notes, there were things she might see. Things that would cause serious complications.

Biting her lip, she asked, "Sir?"

"Hmm?" He eyed her but did not raise his head from his manuscript.

"Does that flower ever change?" He followed her gaze to the bloom suspended in the glass case behind. The question took him off guard. Careful not to answer, he shut the book on his lap.

"Why do you ask?"

"You know, I think that rose means something." She said, staring at it. "There's a muggle fairy tale..."

He was curious about that, but he wasn't about to ask about a muggle fairy tale, and she did not elaborate. It very well be could Albus' meaning. The old man had a thing for fairy tales, after all. She had no way to know how long he had labored over the meaning behind that gift.

She shrugged it off, collecting her papers, then stood to go. "Thank you again, sir. Goodnight." She said as she always did.

"What about them?" He blurted from his arm chair.

"Sir?"

"My arms?"

Hermione blinked, giving her head a slight shake. "You haven't noticed?" She bite her lip, not wanting to answer. He should have let her keep her mouth shut. "You, er, have very impressive arms."

Severus Snape was glad he was already sitting down.

* * *

Unable to hide her wicked grin, Hermione disappeared, closing the door behind her. She had actually teased him, the potions master. Well, it wasn't just teasing. It was true, but she had told him knowing it might make him squirm. She bit her curling lip.

Ginny was waiting for her. "I need to talk to you." He friend said solemnly.

Hermione nodded, pretending not to know why. "My room." She told her.

Once inside, Ginny turned to Hermione and sighed.

"Some auror came onto Harry."

"He told you about it?"

Ginny nodded. "Well good then. He was honest."

"I know he's trustworthy, but I still don't like it. I don't want to be a jealous girlfriend, but the fact is, I am pretty jealous. That girl knew he had a girlfriend, and she did not care."

"Doesn't sound like you're jealous. You know Harry's trustworthy. He's oblivious, but loyal. Sounds more like you're angry with that girl, trying to steal your boyfriend when she knows."

"You know something?" Ginny stood. "I think you're right. Want to help me?"

"Help you what?"

"Oh, come on! Help me to get her back."

"Ginny!"

"What?"

Hermione thought it over a moment. It was petty, sure, but maybe May did need to be taught a lesson. She'd be around Harry for a while after all, and Ron.

"I have a better idea." She told Ginny with a mischievous smile.

"What?" Ginny scrutinized her with happy suspicion.

Hermione shrugged innocently. "Write to George."

"Hermione, you're brilliant. I bet he'd love something to do as well. It's perfect."

"Thanks. I have to go. I'm helping Snape with something."

"You're spending an awful lot of time down there."

"I'm learning. He's a remarkable teacher."

"I know! I just, well, I thought it might be awkward afterwards…"

"It would have been if we weren't adults about it and continued working together."

"Is it what you were working on over the summer?"

"More or less, but I've really got to get going."

"How's it going?" Ginny asked.

"Well."

* * *

Once again, Hermione was swallowed by the abyss. And somewhere in the abyss, she heard a voice. She did not jump. Nothing could touch her here, nothing could see her. It was too dark.

But the voice came closer, through the infinity, and she recognized it. Mum!

"Hermione!" She called. Hermione could smell her holiday spice cakes, hear her voice, her laughter, calling her. "Hermione!" It was sing-song.

Hermione, though, couldn't speak, her throat too tight with emotion.

"Where are you, dear?" It sounded like she was moving further away. She couldn't move to follow. She couldn't open her mouth.

"Hermione, dear…" She was drifting away.

"NO!" Her voice finally broke free. "Mum, I'm right here, come back!"

"Hermione." A voice said through the clearing darkness. "Hermione!" It was Snape's voice, she realized with disappointment. He was yanking her away from her mother, wrenching her painfully by the wrists. "No," She cried. Her knees hit the hard stone floor. She felt the skin scrape off, maybe bruise. She did not care. His hold on her wrists was stinging, and he shook her, her neck jarring. She refused to open her eyes.

"Miss Granger?" His voice was so soft her eyes snapped open. He was leaning over from where he sat in his chair so far his face was inches from her own, his curtain of hair hanging about them. Her head swam with his scent, his intense gaze holding her own. His voice brought her back to reality: that she was on her knees on the floor, crying.

Embarrassed, she pulled away, wiping her eyes.

"I should have warned you." He said. "Sometimes, you can run into things in there—memories…"

She shook her head.

"Fears?"

One slight shake in the negative.

"Desires?"

"My mum." She admitted, attempting to stand. "I'm sorry, you must think I'm so silly."

"For missing your mother?" His voice was gentle, incredulous. She said nothing, tucking her hair behind her ear. His black eyes were filled with emotion, like the abyss had. "Do you think," he helped her up, healing her minor wounds. "That I am so cold that I do not miss my own mother?"

"No, of course not." She played with her hair again.

"Your sacrifice," His voice was pained. "Was extraordinary."

"I regret it." She admitted, her voice breaking, eyes overflowing again. "Is that bad?"

He moved her hair from her eyes. "No. I regret doing as I promised to Dumbledore."

She nodded, looking down to hide her tears.

He cupped her cheek, guiding her face upwards.

"This is part of your training…if you can, I can show you…"

Unsteadily, she retook her seat. His manner was composed and business like once more as he produced his wand. She did not even flinch.

"I'm going to invade your mind. I don't want you to fight me. I want you to concentrate very hard on a pleasant memory of your mother, something that brings you happiness. Can you do that?"

"Like with the patronus?"

"Similar yes but you mind must recall the memory clearly to the forefront of your brain. If you are not specific, I could see more."

"Yes, sir."

"When you're ready."

She gave a curt nod.

"Ligilimens."

_Hermione was standing on a stool in the familiar, white tiled kitchen of her childhood. Her mother was standing behind her, Hermione could smell her long hair falling down around them both, always so soft and brown, not frizzy like her daughter's. The woman was holding her hands. She looked down; her own hands were so small. Together, they rolled balls of dough as her mother sang a silly tune about wise men or something. It was the holidays, and that was a special occasion when they could have real sugar, a special treat._

_"Don't forget to brush your teeth after, my dearest." Her mother reminded her, kissing the top of her head. "Want to put on sprinkles?"_

_Hermione nodded happily. "Red or green?"_

_"Green!" She squealed._

_"Green it is." Her mother laughed. "These are pure sugar, Hermione." She said as it were truly naughty. "It's our secret. Shh." _

_Messily, a young Hermione stood on her toed on her stool and spilled green sprinkles on the biscuits shaped like bells and wreathes. A hand with graceful fingers, identical to her own slender fingers now she realized, ran through the child's long hair._

Just like that, it was gone.

She found it difficult to look at the man who had just seen such an intimate moment of her life. She wondered how this would help, but she trusted him.

"Green?" He raised an eyebrow teasingly. She smiled a little in spite of herself, realizing child Hermione had chosen Slytherin colors over Grffindor. She stared off for a moment, wondering if her mother would still bake at the holidays if she had no children, never know any grandchildren. She had not planned on depriving her parents of that; she had expected to live, obviously.

After a moment, he spoke, "Now, Miss Granger, you are aware of how to perform pretego?"

"But, sir, won't that—"

"You shared with me your memory, and now I will share with you one of mine."

"No, no, you don't have to do this."

"I believe I am in charged of this lesson, am I not? Ligilimens!"

"Pretego!" She shouted just in time.

_Severus was so much like himself, but smaller. He was not so young as she had been in her memory, but it was still strange to see a little Snape. He was crying in his bedroom, a bruise on his face. She felt rage bubble at the sight of it. His father. When he'd been…weak in the hospital wing, Severus had begged his father not to hit him or sometimes, worse, begged him just to look at him._

_She had never told him she had heard._

_Just then, the bedroom door opened, and Severus whimpered, a sound she could never have imagined coming from the strong man before her a moment ago. A beautiful woman entered, a woman with elegant, strong features and perfect fair skin. Her soft black hair fell around her face in curls. __She had a cut on her high cheekbone. Turning sideways, Hermione could see the same nose as her grown son was hooked but also crooked from having been broken. More than once._

_She smiled anyway at the boy before her in his plain, dirty room. "Severus, come here darling, I'll heal it." He shook his head, resting it on his knees. His curtain of hair protected him even then, shielding his face from the world. "Don't be stubborn, sweetheart." Her voice so gentle. She knelt before him, performing a spell. "There, better?"_

_He nodded, pulling the thin woman into a hug. "I've got a surprise for you." She told him as cheerily as if the bruise under her eye were not darkening every minute._

_"For what?" He asked, puzzled. _

_"For getting an Outstanding on your potions work."_

_"I haven't even gotten my grade back yet." He shook his head._

_"But you will. Here you go." She produce from nothingness a lovely strawberry dessert._

_"My favorite." Severus smiled._

_"Eat it all." She grinned broadly back. He dug in, then paused._

_"You eat some."_

_"No it's yours."_

_"But mummy," Hermione tried not to aw at the fact that he still called her that. "You never eat."_

_Suddenly, she felt sick. The woman was thin. Her son was worried she did not eat enough. Stress maybe or control? No wonder he was so sensitive to it._

_"Eat." He prodded, offering her a spoonful. For him, she ate it. "You are the perfect gentleman." She told him._

It was gone too. For a moment, she did not know what to say. She felt her wind was gone.

"She was so beautiful." She breathed to him at last.

"She was. Thank you." His voice was crackling, but tender. "It is important to remember the good parts." He explained. She nodded, understanding the lesson.

She felt sorry for her poor professor at that moment. It was not his fault, and yet there he was, trapped in his room with a weeping student. He likely had no idea what to do, so she did the only rational thing: scrambled to collect all her books and leave. She was wrong.

He had a mother once. He knew exactly what to do. She supposed he'd comforted students before as he seemed no new-comer when he pressed her into his chest. She hid her face in his arms draped around her, shamelessly letting the tears come. She couldn't seem to keep them in anymore anyway. He led her to the settee in the next room. She barely noticed; the world was blurry.

Her whole trembling body relaxed into him. It was the first time could cry like that, selfishly. At the funerals, she'd been looking after Ron or Harry or Ginny. She had cried, of course, but she held back. She did not have a right to grieve as others did, to be selfish. And even her parents... they weren't dead like Harry's.

Snape did not care. His coldness was comforting. Her meltdown wouldn't panic him. She could hold onto his solid chest like it was a rock and sob, his chin resting on her head, his hands lightly around her, body turned appropriately sideways. It was completely innocent. He just let her cry.

The tears that had leaked into her baths were nothing compared to what poured out of her then, but as the sobs receded and hiccups began she had never felt so tired. She could hear his heartbeat next to hear ear, faster than she thought it would be. The thump, thump and his body's warmth were lulling her to sleep. Her eyes refused to open. She tried. Really, she did. Absentmindedly, she thought she might be slobbering on her professor. Opps.

She couldn't control her body. It was too heavy. She wondered vaguely is it was spelled. It felt like lead. And then, it felt like nothing.

* * *

A/N: What? Oh dear...what will come of this? Tiny cliffie, I'm sorry! What would those 'serious complications' be Snape's worried about? What did you think of the memories?

Do take a second to review and let me know what you liked/did not like/ want to see. Reviews make my day and make me write faster!

Yours,

Elsie


	12. Waking

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK. Please don't sue.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for a the phenomenal response for the last chapter. So many reviews so fast, more adds to favorite and alerts! So here's a record speed up-date for those record breaking number of reviews. I struggled with this chapter. We'll see...

* * *

Chapter 12: Waking

* * *

Hermione Granger woke in her own bed, confused and groggy. She leapt up when she spotted the time, but thankfully, it was Sunday.

She racked her brain, recalling her emotional outburst in Snape's office following her memories of her mother. She had not realized she had been holding in so much. When has she become such an emotional wreck?

Falling back on her bed, looking out her window, she thought back on the last few years. Throughout school, she'd kept it together better than the boys— gotten in less trouble, kept up with her studies. She never felt sorry for herself, not even when she was petrified. There was always someone else to pity more: Harry, Lupin, Sirius, Ron, and Cedric. Her problems would just have to wait.

When Harry lost Sirius, when Ron's father was attacked, their emotions had bled out openly, and she had been there to comfort them. When she had lost her parents, in her own way, she had not been overly emotional. Few had even known. She had no right to cry, she felt, when they were safe and alive. She did not want the pity of the Order. Her grief would have to wait.

She had not been able to let go when they lost Fred. Ron needed her; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had lost a son—what right did she have to grieve? The Weasleys had to be looked after. She could wait until the finally ate, finally went to bed, to feel her own pain at his loss.

On the run, trying to hunt down and destroy the Horcruxes she had been strong for Harry, even when Ron abandoned them. Since then, she had not mentioned it even once to the redhead how he'd left them. Just left. Again, she had been protecting him from his own guilt. Her feelings of betrayal, abandonment could be pushed aside. She could take it.

She could not even have nightmares about her torture because of what he screaming did to Harry and Ron, the guilt. They had their own night terrors, more than once of not being able to reach her while Bellatrix hurt her, so she had healed her own wounds, figuratively and literally. She had no choice. There were more important things. She would have to wait.

And when everything was over, there was no time to cry. There were injured to care for and funerals to plan and attend, thousands upon thousands of cups of tea to serve. There was little time to sleep, less time to dream.

Everything had been waiting for its turn to surface. And finally she was alone at school, focusing on herself. Harry and Ron were not there for her to look after. Riddle was gone; the war was over; everyone had gone home. It all caught up with her in the quite of the dimly lit corridors.

It couldn't wait anymore.

She could probably never have accept help from anyone else. Severus Snape never looked at her with pity. He was one of the most competent, most trustworthy and discrete of people. And she had cared for him when he lay dying. She had cleaned his wounds, drained them, gingerly rubbed salve into his skin. She had woke him from his nightmares.

The healers had kept him asleep so he could heal, telling others he was dead. Hermione, learning the truth about what he had done, did not trust anyone else to look after him; McGonagall and Harry had agreed to her being in charge of him, and their word was law.

When he did realize someone was in his room, he called her Poppy. When he turned a corner, was going to live, began to come back to them, she swore everyone to secrecy about the past weeks.

_"He needs to know what you did for him!" Harry had vehemently disagreed._

_"He'll be uncomfortable, knowing his know-it-all student saw him at his most vulnerable. It's my choice."_

So she could accept _his_ help. It was fair. It was equal.

She had seen him cry, though she knew he did not remember. She knew because she had modified his memory. He had wept so bitterly when he realized he had lived. It hurt to hear. She just wanted it to stop. So she had made it stop.

Last night, she recalled, she had actually wept. The tears she had let fall in the privacy of the bathroom gave her a sense of temporary relief. The ones that had leaked out in her moments of frustration and self-pity made her feel worse, but last night was different. She felt _purged_. The sobs had physically wrung something from her body that had been long trapped within her.

But it had been exhausting. She rested on his chest as a friend. His body was larger, flooded around her. It was strong, she could relax against it, completely safe. Her body was warm and her mind empty as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.

She blushed at the thought. A shoulder to cry on was one thing, but she hated to imagine her professor's face when he had realized he was holding a sleeping Hermione Granger. Yet he had not woken her.

Somehow, she had made it back to her bed. But _how_?!

* * *

While her embarrassment would make skipping breakfast easy, she remembered what Snape had shown her. His insistence that she eat properly made more sense.

More for him than for her, she marched happily down to the great hall and helped herself to strawberry crepes.

Whether it was the training, or finally letting go emotionally, or if she felt she had someone else's feelings to put above her own again, Hermione Granger felt _herself_. She ate happily.

Another owl came from Ron. She had never replied to his last letter, unsure how to reassure him without giving away their story. He had written again to see if she was alright when he heard about the lessons with Snape on Saturday that were keeping her from visiting as much, as were exams. _You can talk to me._ _We're still friends._

Those words plagued her with guilt, but she couldn't reply until she got a letter inviting her to the Burrow for Christmas.

_Ron,_

_Of course I'll be coming for Christmas! I am looking forward to it. I have to remain past term to finish my assistant work for Snape, but I'll meet you at the Burrow. Miss you both. _

_See you soon,_

_Hermione_

"Hello, Rex." She greeted the young man she recognized from the trip with Ginny as he sat nearby.

Rex's eyebrows raised momentarily in surprise. Then, he uncertainly scooted closer. "Hey, Granger." He said.

"Hermione." She sipped her pumpkin juice.

"Hermione." He repeated, unsure.

"How's quidditch?" She tried to make conversation.

Again, his face lit with surprise. "Wicked. Ginny's a great captain."

"You're keeper now, right?"

"Yeah. You're, er, ex-boyfriend was the keeper, right?"

"He was."

"Is it true you left him for someone else?"

"Well, you certainly say what you're thinking, don't you?"

He nodded.

"No. It's not."

"But you ended it." He asked seriously.

"Yes." She lied, taking another swing of juice. She needed coffee.

"Do you have plans today?" Rex asked.

She nearly choked. "Just, studying. Library time. You know."

He laughed. "So I've heard. I get it. Last exam in the morning."

"What do you have?"

"Astronomy."

"Want my notes?"

His hand paused on the way to his mouth. "You still have your notes from fifth year?"

"Sure. Different professor, but shouldn't be too different."

"And you'd give them to me?"

She shrugged. "Of course." It's not like they were competing. Besides, she liked helping people.

"Look, it's the weekend. Let's go to Hogsmeade." He said casually.

"Okay." She agreed quickly. Why not? The walk would do her good, and she always loved to see the little village covered in a blanket of white.

When she had finished her crepes, Rex stood. "Shall we?"

"Oh. Sure." Hermione followed a young man she realize she barely knew back to the common room. It was fine, though. He was smaller and younger than her, less experienced. She could handle him, if need be she thought, fingering her wand. "Let me get you my notes." She told him as she went to her room to grab her coat.

He waited in the common room as it filled with last minute freak outs and lie abouts before the last of exams. He smiled when she returned and for the first time she realized he was a rather handsome young man with a flashy smile, bright blue eyes, and neat dark brown hair. "Thanks." He grinned.

"No problem. I need them back when you're finished."

"Absolutely. So you're ready?" He asked, crossing his arms, leaning back on the wall. And that's when she realized. No one else was coming.

"Just us?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, I thought you meant Ginny…"

"Look you're single, I'm single. It's not a date, unless you want it to be, just two people getting to know each other, enjoying a Sunday afternoon. Problem?"

She bit her lip. Hogsmeade could have …people. And technically, she was not actually single, but she could not tell him that. Was it possible that Rex had been the one who…? No. He was just a fifth year.

He was waiting for an answer. She had no reason to say no. So she said yes.

* * *

She regretted it almost instantly. Students stared as they walked out of the castle. Actually stared. And it wasn't just students, some teachers paused md conversation when they noticed Hermione Granger walking with someone, well, not the D.A. crowd.

She turned to Rex to say something about how silly it was and saw that the confident young lion was trotting towards Hogsmeade looking particularly satisfied with himself. This is how Harry had felt, she thought. She fought the impulse to roll her eyes, waving happily when Hagrid shouted to her.

"Alright there, 'Mione?" The half-giant asked affectionately.

"Yes, Hagrid. How's your little unicorn doing?"

"Want to come and see?" He asked, grinning with pride.

"We were just—" Rex began.

"We'd love to, Hagrid." Hermione quickly agreed. "You know Rex, don't you? We just have a moment."

"Come on!" He waved them enthusiastically down to the lovingly-made pen for the abandoned, white foal. He was discernable from the snow only in that he was somehow whiter.

"Whiter than the driven snow." Rex remarked.

"Beut'iful!" Hagrid said. "Finally old enough to tell the sex."

"What it is, Hagrid?" She asked breathlessly, elbows on the fence as she watched the little foal dance, kicking up silver powder.

"A girl." He said fondly. "Named her Hermione."

"Oh, Hagrid!" She tackled him—well, part of him—in a hug.

"Oh well, now, it's not so—there, there—wanna feed 'er?"

Hermione, the four legged one, came cautiously forward to get her bottle. "Go on, Hermione. They prefer women." Hagrid told her. Hermione Granger beamed at the little creature sucking the bottle. Rex was giving her an odd look. She was not sure why, and she did not care.

This was the unblemished beauty they had fought so hard to protect. For a moment, she thought of how much Lupin would have enjoyed this little girl. Then, she stopped thinking of that and just enjoyed the moment.

"Well, you two had better be getting on," Hagrid retook the battle. "Rex." He nodded.

"She's perfect." Rex shook the bigger man's hand.

"Thank you." Hagrid said, surprised.

"So is the animal." He winked. Hermione's face was burning all the way into the village.

To his credit, Rex knew better than to make a pass at her. They did some holiday shopping, though hers was mostly done in advance. They enjoyed a quick refreshment in the Hog's Head, as per her request over the crowded Three Broomsticks. And they window shopped, trudging back in the snow and swinging by the Shrieking Shack. Rex wasn't even in school when Sirius Black was on the loose, so she told him the story.

"So we followed him through the whomping willow,"

It took longer than she expected, staring out at the snow piling on the collapsing roof. Rex was a good listener. She turned once to see if he was still there and found him close they were almost touching. She wrapped up the story, leaving out some of the more sensitive details.

"So Black was really innocent and the traitor was under our nose the whole time." She breathed. He raised his thick eyebrows.

"Wow." He breathed, the puff of his breath reaching into her hair.

She looked back at the Shack, avoiding him. "So all the things were thought were scary—the shack, Black, and werewolves – turned out to be reliable, trusted parts of our life, and the common place nearly killed us—and damn tree and rat." She scoffed.

"You said 'life'."

"What?" She turned, a wind dragging her hair across her face. He caught and brushed it back. "You said 'our life' singular." She blinked at him, then moved back towards the school.

"You didn't tell me anything about yourself." She said as they trudged up to the castle, her legs getting wet from the melting snow. She cast a spell to dry them, even though they'd be wet again in moments. The snow was getting thick.

"I live with my dad, a muggle. My mum was killed early in the war. I barely remember her."

"I'm sorry. I had no idea. My parents ar—were muggles as well."

"I know." He said, as if it were common knowledge. She supposed it rather was.

"What does your dad think of Hogwarts?" She asked.

"He's proud." He admitted, less bold.

"That's good. Some people's parents are afraid of the magic, the danger here."

"Were yours?"

"No. They were proud." She felt good saying it.

"So that's where you get it." He said cryptically.

"Get what?"

"The brains." He smiled.

She smirked. "They were both dentists."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"What do you want to do? Be a dentist?"

"No. I'm not sure." A weight lifted off her shoulders as she finally said it aloud. There, it was in the open. She admitted it. Nothing exploded.

In fact, Rex just looked out on the grounds, not as shocked as she expected. "Well," He asked thoughtfully. "Have you thought about being a unicorn?"

She laughed hard at that and was still smiling when they marched in the great hall for dinner.

"Where were you?" Ginny asked.

"Hogsmeade, where were you?"

"Studying the potions stuff we worked on for tomorrow. I was studying and you were out; has the world turned backwards?"

Hermione laughed again.

"You're feeling better." Ginny observed, looking at her as if she had three eyes.

* * *

"Sir?" Miss Granger asked tentatively.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"How did I… er, how is it I…?" He arched an eyebrow as she fumbled through her embarrassing question. He knew what was coming of course, but rather than help her along, he let her struggle. Perhaps, if it was too awkward she'd abandon the line of inquisition altogether.

He was not that lucky.

He focused very hard upon the potion he was brewing. Meanwhile, Granger busied herself with the ingredients in her work station. He had asked for her help in brewing some dreamless sleep draught for Harry Potter, freeing the professor to create a new batch of his experimental potion for the three of them. Both needed to be completed before the break.

"The other evening," He watched out the corner of her eye as she chewed her lip. "I was so exhausted that I don't remember walking back to my room."

He waited. It was not a question, after all. He did not _have_ to respond. At last, feeling her eyes on him, he caved. "I," He chose the next word carefully, "_restored_ you to your bed. I did not want to disturb your sleep, knowing how much difficulty you've had with it."

"You—you took me all the way back to my room?" Her tone was incredulous, but her voice thankfully quiet.

"I used a spell." He clarified quietly, still looking at the placid surface of his potion.

"What spell?" Her voice was innocent curiosity.

"Cubilidomum Redi; it's called the gentleman's spell."

Granger waited for further explanation. Trying to keep the edge from his voice, he explained. "I laid you on my bed and performed a spell that returns you to your own."

"Oh. I didn't know that spell." She said, seemingly unbothered by the fact that he had placed her on his own bed. She completely trusted him, and this revelation made him feel proud but also unnerved for a reason he could not fathom.

"It's old." He said simply.

"Well, thank you for looking after me." She said. 'What, no repulsion?' He thought. No flustered embarrassment?

"You seem to be improving." He commented dryly as he plucked a rose thorn from a stem for his draft.

"I feel much better." She announced happily.

"Good." He offered her a smile. It was tight and polite perhaps, but she knew it was in earnest and returned it.

Said improvement was not, he perceived, to last long.

* * *

The very next day, Severus Snape slammed his paper down on the staff table. It was the tail end of term, and the hall usually subdued with burnt out studiers was abuzz with giggles and whispers, two of his least favorite sounds.

He glared at them.

"Everything alright, Severus?" Minerva asked him.

"Have you seen this?" He asked her, indicating the paper.

"I have. You did warn her." The headmistress sipped her tea.

"You'd think they could find something most interesting to print." He spat resentfully.

There was a picture of Miss Granger standing in the snow, looking at a shop window or something out of the frame. She was smiling, wrapped warmly in a knee length coat and bright scarf. Standing close behind her, very close, was a member of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

_"__It seems Miss Hermione Granger certainly has penchant for quidditch players. She first dated the handsome Bulgarian seeker Victor Krum following his performance at the World Cup and during his competition in the Triwizard Tournament four years ago. A nasty love triangle ensued when she was rumored to be dating Harry Potter at the same time, also a competitor in the games."_

Not true_. _He knew Granger and Potter never dated.

_"__Miss Granger moved from Potter, the youngest seeker in Hogwarts in the last century, to his best friend Ronald Weasley, a war hero and one time Hogwarts quidditch keeper with whom she recently ended things._

_Having caught the snitch more than once and not interested in keeping the keeper, Hermione Granger seems to have switched teams yet again to be chased by chaser Rex Forthright, an attractive fifth year student. Miss Granger is nineteen years old."_

Are they actually insinuating she is the world's youngest cougar?

_"__Her allure to powerful young men remains a mystery,"_

Another poorly veiled insult, he thought with disdain.

_"__But whatever her secret is, many would like to know! Known as a brilliant witch who has apprenticed under the Hogwarts potions master Severus Snape, it's possible Miss Granger has developed a form of advantage."_

No one suspected a possible liaison with him which was more of a relief then it was an insult. But it was still an insult.

* * *

They had finished their work as term ended, but Granger hung back the evening the newspaper article arrived. He had already wished her a pleasant holiday, knowing she was leaving for a few days to join Potter and Weasley. He suspected what she wanted to talk about, but pretended not to notice her lingering until she spoke.

Her voice was soft, timid even, barely audible. "Sir, did you forgive her?"

He said nothing. He knew who it was she meant.

"For wanting you as a friend? For…hurting you. You still love her, but did you forgive her?"

He sighed. It was a personal question, but there was no point in snapping, throwing her out. She had shared some rather personal memories with him, the ones buried deep: Mr. Wealsey leaving, their rough first failed attempt at making love. Viewing the latter was an accident, so in turn, he had shared some of Lily.

One was their friendship, talking naturally with one another as they studied on the grass. She teased him good naturedly, which he allowed with a small smirk. Then, Granger watched his last poor attempt to woo her, her rejection of him, her ... displeasure with his new group of friends.

She wanted to know if he resented Lily for rejecting him. It was no jump to figure out why.

"For a long time I did not." He admitted, too ashamed to look directly at her just yet. "I was a selfish person who did not deserve her friendship. I actually wished for her to realize her mistake, to be miserable. But in the end, I was happy she was not. She deserved happiness, as did I in a way if I had let myself. She was simply protecting me. She was not willing to jeopardize our friendship and did not want to risk hurting me, trying to force a relationship that would waste my time and disappoint me more." He was guessing really, speaking more to Granger than about Lily he suspected.

"But you—it's not my business but, you did not move on…"

"Miss Granger what is this about?" He said rather shortly, his patience done.

"Nothing. I'm curious. I want to break up with Ron." She seemed surprised at her own outburst. "I don't want to hurt him but I don't want to hurt him more by being with him."

He considered her for a moment. "Do you love him?"

"Well, I love him…"

"Are you in love with him?" He asked as if it hurt to use such silly language.

"No. I tried I really tried. I know I should—"

He cut her off. "Let him free. Let yourself free." He extinguished the fire under his cauldron as if giving lesson instructions.

She nodded. When he looked up again she was gone, he believed until the New Year, but he was wrong about her yet again. He was getting rather tired of that.

"Happy Christmas, Sir." Smiling brighter than she had in some time, Granger handed him a parcel wrapped in emerald paper with tiny silver reindeer. On it was an overly curly silver ribbon and bow.

He took it waiting for it to explode, a trick from the Weasley shop. What on earth would Granger buy him for Christmas? And why would she? But no, she was not the type to give exploding parcels.

"Thank you." He said blandly.

She seemed a bit disappointed he did not open it then. He did not trust himself. Usually hiding his reaction was simple, but gifts required the opposite—giving a proper reaction. He rarely received gifts.

"I have something for you as well." He said slowly, going into his room. He returned a moment later with the only thing he could offer her: his potion. "I have no idea if it will help at this point, but you may try. Perhaps it will add to your holiday." He tried to smile. She returned it. It was an unusually nice one, he noted.

"Thank you, sir." She gripped it protectively.

"Thank _you_." He inclined his head as she left.

Unless he was very much mistaken, he had become friends with the insufferable know-it-all. Bloody hell.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think of the spell, Rex, four-legged Hermione, or Snape's advice? That last scene especially gave me a fight, I'm not going to bluff. Can't wait to get to the holidays... Thanks for reading. Would love to hear your thoughts. Until next time...

Yours,

Elsie


	13. Wishes

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK. I write this for entertainment only, make no profit, and please don't sue me.

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A/N: Call me sentimental, but when reviews hit 101, I feel pretty magical. 101 Reviews! A few of you have asked how I up-date so fast, and there's your answer. I have people reading this story and get the unique experience of knowing that and even hearing directly from them. When you get excited or interested or impatient, so do I. I write ahead, and then I'm ready to show you the next bit I've written. So thanks for your support, and let's keep my obsessive cycle going! (Also, I have a lot of time on my hands at the moment because I'm ill lol). Happy Christmas-it's a longish one.

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Chapter 13: Wishes

* * *

"Hermione!" Her name was chorused in excitement as she emerged from the fireplace. Before she could properly see who all was in the room, she was engulfed in a hug. Judging by the black hair in her face, it was Harry.

"Hi, Harry." She laughed. "They actually gave you some time off?"

"Yeah." He nodded.

"Hey there, Hermione." Ron said shyly from behind him. She instantly felt a pang of guilt for neglecting her boyfriend, so she hurried forward and crushed Ron in a hug. He squeezed her back, and did not let go for a moment, as if trying to hold on to her in more ways than one. It was only then she felt Mrs. Weasley's eyes on her. Hermione doubted Ron had told his mum any worry he might have had, but she may have seen the photograph in the _Prophet_ for herself. The woman knew that paper could not be trusted, but she was also fiercely protective of her children.

"How are you?" Hermione asked Ron excitedly.

"Pretty good, you know. How were exams?"

"Not bad."

"Why even ask?" A familiar voice came from behind Ron. "You know she got Outstanding on all of them."

"Maybe not all!" Hermione told Ginny. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Sure you did." Ron assured her. She smiled shyly.

"Hello, Hermione." Someone said.

"Luna!" Happy to see the blonde, she hugged her. "Ginny was kind enough to invite me for the holiday." Luna explained.

"That's wonderful! What have you been doing?"

"I've been finishing my last year in Hogwarts on a research project, scouring after a lead on Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, thanks to Professor McGonagall and Hagrid."

"Oh," Hermione forced a smile. She had noted Luna was not at school, but with Luna there was no telling really. "Lovely. Any luck?"

"Got some casts of tracks," She answered vaguely. "And I'll be taking over _The Quibbler_ now, of course."

"Of course. Well, I'm glad there is at least one wizarding publication not taking an interest in slandering me."

"Oh yes," Said Luna vaguely. "That was horrible."

"It's alright." She shrugged it off.

"Hermione." Mr. Weasley stepped forward to greet her. She hugged the man who was like another father to her, his eyes happier than they had been the past few months now that his home was completely rebuilt and full. It was different from the old Burrow, but similar. She'd helped, along with Professor McGonagall, George, and some other Order members. Her favorite part was a total surprise for the parents.

Up a spiral staircase in the kitchen—just like before—there was a long, narrow hall. It had wooden floors and molding, lined by red wallpaper and a few lights. One side had windows, the other side plain, wooden doors. At the end of the hall, it turned a corner and continued around the back side of the house, ending in another spiral staircase that went down into the den. The number of doors along the hall depended on the number of people in the house. It expanded to fit the occupancy into identical, cozy windowless rooms. It was a brilliant bit of magic. Some rooms always remained—Fred's for instance with everything they could salvage of his.

Above, on the top level, was the master suite they'd worked hard to perfect for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. No one deserved it more.

When Fleur arrived with her swollen belly, Mrs. Weasley excitedly showed the nursery that opened upstairs. The girls fawned and oohh-ed. It contained a small wooden dresser, rocking chair, and a handmade crib with hand knitted baby clothes and blanket laying inside. Aside from the wood, the room was done in dark blue with tiny, silver stars like the night sky, including the crib sheets and swooping fabric across the ceiling. Fluffy white pillows and rug were by the chair.

"Zis is perfect!" Fleur cooed. "Perfect for our baby. Thank you!" She kissed her mother-in-law on the cheeks. Mrs. Weasley looked pleased.

Ginny tugged Hermione into her room. The Weasley girl's bed was the focus of the room, a wooden sleigh bed with silky red bedding—rather sexy, Hermione thought, for a bed at her parents. In contrast, quidditch things were hung all over the walls.

"So what's up with you and Rex?" Ginny asked, plopping on the bed.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, stunned by the question. "Rex? You mean that quidditch boy in the article?"

"Look Hermione, Ron's my brother, but you're my best friend. If you like Rex, I'm not going to be mad, just call it off with Ron, okay?"

Hermione nearly choked on her laugh. "I do NOT like Rex! When he asked me to go to Hogsmeade, I thought it was with you and everyone; I didn't know we were going alone. I couldn't say no without admitting I was lying about the break with Ron. It was fine. We just went as friends."

Ginny nodded, believing her. "Well, you know how The Prophet is. Anyway Rex has been talking about you nonstop—he's got a bit of a crush—and Ron's been asking me if you two are alright."

"I'm sorry you got put in the middle."

"It's alright. Harry put you in the middle of us, didn't he?" Ginny smiled knowingly.

"I take it he told you."

"I don't mind." The redhead shrugged. "You give good advice."

"What did George do?"

Ginny chuckled. "Polyjuice potion."

"What. Did. He. Do?"

Ginny rolled over on her stomach to detail the deliciously deceitful tale. "Well, he made himself into Harry, didn't he?"

Hermione gasped.

"And seduced her." She continued, eyes glinting. "Got her upstairs and –"

George appeared on Hermione's knee with a loud pop. "Ouch!"

"Hello, ladies." He said. "Telling my story are we? I thought I heard my name."

"You tell it better, George." His sister said as she whacked him with a pillow. "You tell it."

Hermione massaged her knee as Fred explained, eyes gleaming mischievously almost as much as they used to…before. "I transformed myself into a lesser creature for the sake of my baby sister here, and wooed May Wringwald upstairs at Grim. She was all hot and bothered."

"George!"

"And ready to take me, or Harry, but I convinced her I felt so guilty about cheating I'd only go through with it if she took polyjuice to look like Ginny."

"She did not agree!" Hermione asked.

"She did...only it didn't work out quite right. Well, actually, credit's due to you, Hermione for the inspiration."

"What inspiration?"

"Your cat fiasco."

"You didn't!"

"Of course, when she realized it wasn't Harry…well, she daren't say a thing to anyone about her own furry little problem. And she's missed a few days of auror training. Feel ill, Ron tells me…poor dear."

"George, you wicked thing!" Hermione slapped his arm, her smile approving.

"Hey! No one messes with my sister, or Harry." He added. "Or you, you know. If anyone is bothering you, you can tell me." He narrowed his eyes.

"Thanks, George. I'm doing much better."

"This Rex guy giving you any trouble?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I've spoken to quidditch-boy twice."

"Quidditch-boy, huh? Can't be too much of a threat. Let's get some food before Ron and Bill eat it all." He leapt off the bed and headed downstairs.

* * *

The meal was stupendous, and it wasn't even Christmas day. Molly's meatballs were the best. Fleur had insisted on helping, which meant there was wonderful, fresh bread. The vegetables were straight from the garden. A chorus of 'mmm's were the only sounds, interrupted by the occasional 'would you please pass the' and 'stop hogging the's. That is until someone made conversation over plum pudding.

"What are you planning to do after school, Hermione?" Percy asked, friendly.

"Well, I've been considering becoming a unicorn." She joked.

No one laughed. Mr. Weasley stopped eating, giving her a puzzled look. Harry looked outright concerned.

"Angola Marcello turned into a unicorn." Luna said, eating her pudding. No one knew who Angola Marcello was.

"Hagrid named his unicorn foal Hermione." She explained.

"Ohh." Percy seemed relieved.

Harry shook his wild hair. "Hagrid got a unicorn?"

"The mother was killed and Hagrid came upon it, babe still alive inside. He saved it. At first, he thought it would starve but he got help from the Centaurs. She's doing quite well now. You really should go see him, Harry. He misses you."

"We will. I'm going to drop by after I visit Teddy tomorrow. It's weird not seeing Hogwarts at Christmas."

"It's always so beautiful." Mrs. Weasley agreed.

"What did you get Teddy for Christmas, Harry?" Hermione asked.

"Er, a book I thought he'd like. Figured I could read it to him. Remus would want him to have books, you know. I also got him a stuffed wolf, dog, and deer."

"That's so sweet."

Harry stared into his soup. "Yeah."

"We're sending him the type of baby broom Sirius got Harry when he was little." Ginny said from Harry's other side. "And Mum made him a hat and little stockings."

"No prank products for infants." George winked. "Yet."

"I've got a little something for you to take to him, Harry. If you don't mind." Hermione said.

"Of course."

"It's a muggle thing…and these little wooden puzzles. So Ron," She began, but paused. She honestly had nothing to say. "How's training? Almost over?"

"Yeah. Over halfway." His face lit up with excitement, and for the rest of the evening the two regaled the group with a few accidents that had befallen in training and outlined the steps towards requirement. Again, Harry disagreed with some tactics. Ron seemed miffed it mostly came so much easier to Harry, but did not complain he had trouble, except in strategy where he excelled and broke a record. The table congratulated him again. She'd missed the news the first time.

After dinner, Mrs. Weasley forced Ron upstairs to wrap his presents. "Mum, I'll do it tomorrow!"

"No. No time tomorrow."

"They are just going to be unwrapped anyway. Besides, my wrapping is rubbish."

"It's the thought that counts." Hermione smiled. He gave in and went upstairs. It was warm and busy inside. Hermione stepped outside into twilight, letting the cool air smack her in the face. Walking, she spotted a figure hunched in the grass and fingered her wand, but it was only Harry getting fresh air as well.

Careful not to startle him, she approached. "You alright?" She asked.

"Yeah." He tossed a stone into the pond with a plop.

"Sleeping better?" She sat down next to him.

"Eating better?" He shot back.

She sighed. "Yes, actually. You're right about Snape."

He tugged at the grass. "How is he?"

"It's hard to tell with that man."

"Yeah." He chuckled. "So let's make a deal." Harry proposed.

"Okay," She agreed hesitantly.

"I'll write you when I drink, you write me a list of what you ate. Proof if one of us has a problem."

She laughed incredulously. "You want me to list what I eat?"

He nodded.

"Okay." They sat for a minute. "Luna offered me work at _The Quibbler_."

Harry laughed.

"I'm thinking of taking it." She admitted, sounding a little surprised herself.

"Really?"

"More reliable than the _Prophet_." She shrugged.

"True. It's better now that she's running it." He tossed another stone. "You could do what you wanted there, maybe even write something worth reading about…I asked Ginny to invite her, you know."

"That's very considerate."

"It just felt wrong, you know, her being right over the hills all this time, spending Christmas alone. She's odd, but she's very nice."

"She is, very empathetic."

Harry nodded, thoughtful. "She's got this way of…making people feel better. I suggested she study healing."

"Not a bad idea actually. What did she say?"

"She said maybe. She'd always wanted to be a midwife. Something strange and amazing about life coming into the world, always different, always magical, she said once. I don't know anything about that. I've never even seen a cat have kittens. But Teddy is pretty amazing,"

"He is."

"Fleur looks even more beautiful expecting."

"She does. It's criminal." They laughed. "She doesn't feel it though, poor thing."

"Neville might drop by on Christmas." Harry said.

"Really?"

"He's doing well in auror training as well. Ginny's talked about doing it next year, but I know she's really hoping for a quidditch position."

"How do you feel about that?"

"I want her to do it. She'd be really happy."

"That's good. She'd be away a lot." Hermione reminded him.

"I never see her anyway with training."

"Almost over."

"They say it's worse when you finish. More work, more politics. I've always hated politics. Don't know how much of that I can take." He laughed, but something about his tone was anything but joking. "Still running S.P.E.W.?"

"Don't make fun, Harry. After the battle, and Dobby, some of the elves have come around. Winky is doing better. I visit her in the kitchens sometimes."

"That's nice of you."

"Hey you two," Ron approached.

"Come here, Ronald." She patted the ground. "We're complaining like old times."

"Oh good. My feet are killing me."

She giggled at him.

"No really, they don't even look human anymore." He told them.

"Did they ever?" Harry teased.

"Shut it, Harry." Just like old times.

* * *

When Harry was gone the next day, she could only avoid Ron so long. She was useless in the kitchen and everything was wrapped. He cornered her. "I told you, Ron, I'm not still cross with you." She repeated for the umpteenth time.

"Oh. Well, you haven't been visiting as much recently."

"I told you." She repeated more upset about it than she should be. "I've been busy with Snape!"

"Yeah, every Saturday night…"

"It's work, Ronald!"

"You left...the other day...without saying goodbye." Yes. It was official. She was the worst girlfriend ever. In her defense, she had not had a lot of practice, but Ron seemed to be treating her perfectly fine, and he was not exactly a Casanova.

"You don't even answer my letters. You do Harry's but not mine." He whined, looking stung.

"I didn't want anyone to figure it out." She said weakly.

"What?"

"That we were pretending to be broken up."

"Hermione," Ron asked quietly. "Are we pretending to be broken up or are we?"

She stood stock still for a moment, silence fell. Then, she sighed. "I don't know." It hurt so much more than it should. She was not in love with Ron, but she loved him, and a selfish part of her feared she'd be jealous and alone. This is what Ginny meant about not dating friends. Look at Severus and Lilly: it tore them apart and their friendship was as strong as hers and her friends.

"I always wanted you, Ron." She put a gentle emphasis on the past tense. "And the very last thing I'd ever want is to hurt you, but sometimes I think I am hurting you by being with you."

He opened his mouth to protest. She did not let him, not yet. _Let him go. Free him. _Severus' words followed her. "Only you can't see it yet. I'm not sure I'm good for you. I'm not sure I'm good for anyone. I might yet end up an old, crazy cat lady." She laughed teary. "At least at the moment, I'm not girlfriend material. I can't be there for you the way I should be.

"Ron, I just," She lifted her shoulder her hands as if trying to reach out and touch the solution. But there wasn't one. "I want you to be happy. I _really_ do." She took his hands, letting her eyes well warmly.

"I know." He said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I want you to be happy too."

"Is there any way we can just swear we'll still be friends, like we've always been and not let whoever we're dating keep us from each other just because we're the opposite sex? I don't know if I want to be with you Ron, but I do know I'd rather die than lose our friendship."

"Hermione," His voice was between scolding and disbelief. "We could never just be friends."

She was struck with cold fear.

"We're family." She relaxed. She could not speak, only look up at him with shinning gratitude. "Nothing could ever stop us from being friends, ever. Not after everything we've been through."

"Thanks, Ron." She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him tightly. Something about it felt so much …_better_. It felt right the way the other kind never had.

"Love you, 'Mione." He said, his chin resting on her head. He was trying to sound friendly, but there was some pain there he would never really forgive her for and for which she would always feel guilt. But at least they had ended it then before it got more serious, more painful. She wasn't ruining his life or torturing herself anymore.

"Love you too." She murmured, crying into his sweater.

* * *

It was only Snape's potion, she suspected, that got her through Christmas Eve. Her parents were somewhere celebrating with wine, believing they were childless. They did not remember any of her treasured holidays. The cookies she decorated with green sprinkles were only kept in her mind and now Snape's.

Fred was missing as well. No one mentioned it, save Mrs. Weasley who by accident called George Fred then spent an hour in her room recuperating. Luna missed her father, occasionally mentioning him. No one had any idea how to react, not knowing him. Everyone but Harry, who asked her about him. It made Luna smile faintly to talk about him, then she did not mention him again. Hermione wondered if she should mention her parents, but the words caught in her throat, strangling her. There was a distance between her and Ron as well, one she hoped would close over time. She was determined to close it.

"Here," She handed him a little platter with his favorite cookies.

"Oh, thanks, 'Mione."

Then, there was their awkward stumbling under the mistletoe, though not as awkward as Harry and Ginny's kiss that made Molly Weasley hiss, "Ginerva!"

For the most part, it was bright and festive and pleasantly crowded. People tried to drown out the missing with more noise. She didn't mind.

Ron got her charm bracelet. The charms on it were a cat, an open book, and a witch's hat. "Oh, Ron, it's marvelous." He smiled sadly, but returned the excited hug. Harry got her a muggle planner—the most elaborate she had ever seen.

"Clever." Mr. Weasley watched with interest. "May I see?"

She got both boys some protective gloves for training and, naturally, a book-one on dueling for Harry and one on famous Aurors for Ron.

"Wicked."

"Thanks, Hermione."

Hermione had sent for some magical quills for Luna. The blonde gave her a pair of cat earrings. "Wow, Luna, thanks." Ron tried to hide his snigger behind a throw pillow.

Harry got Ginny a necklace of black pearls. Hermione did not know if Ginny had ever said a thing about liking pearls, but she seemed thrilled with the gift, her mother enthusiastically fastening it for her to show off.

But at night, she felt something was missing…so much. She felt the loneliness of her room, the darkness, the coldness of outside, the quiet of the house. She regretted breaking up with Ron if for no other reason than she'd like to sneak in his room to not be alone. She thought of going to Ginny's but was not sure she would be alone. For a moment, she even half wished to be back at Hogwarts, but an empty castle would only feel worse, wouldn't it? Though it was not entirely empty…

* * *

Severus Snape had no Christmas tree in his room to put his gift under. Perhaps he should have. On Christmas Eve, he found himself drinking too much eggnog in his armchair, and to his great surprise he had six little boxes covered in paper. The first three were from Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout—they always got gifts for the other staff and he them, usually linked to their profession, though Flitwick was partial to giving gag gifts.

"What am I going to do with mice? Test poisons?" He'd snapped much to the man's chuckling one year.

Some students had attempted to give him something to earn his good graces, but he had to refuse. Nor could he give his house gifts. He was partial instead to writing the each of his Slytherins a short holiday card, specifically to them. They were brief but personal. No one knew, outside of his Slytherins. He learned long ago more than some of his students came from poor homes and many came from rich homes with a scarcity of any affection or kindness. It was not his strong suit, comfort, but it was the holidays.

For a man who typically enjoyed his solitude, Severus found he was not enjoying it very much. He strode the room again. It was his first Christmas truly free of Riddle, of obligation, of anger and guilt, so why was he so restless? What was missing?

But he knew the answer. Friendship.

It had not been possible before, so he did not miss it. He did not deserve it, and friendship with him put people in danger. There was Albus, but he was gone.

Now that he was free to have someone in his chambers for Christmas dinner, without a thought to having to apparate away, the loss was suddenly felt. It was present in the way a man can live in silence for weeks but is only bothered by the quiet just after his company departs.

He felt lonely. Severus Snape who so often wanted to be left alone felt lonely.

But he did have friends. The gifts proved that. One was from Harry Potter. Merlin's beard. He'd turned it over in his hands a dozen times since it came by owl, baffled.

He opened it then.

It was a magical photograph of Lilly and he at school, standing next to one another as friends the way they always were.

He sat and cried for a while, getting determinedly drunk.

Then, there was a small box in black paper tied with a gold ribbon, from an admirer. It was a rather unique serpent ring with an emerald inside the curled body. He did not put it on, though, or even touch it. He was no fool. It had to be checked for curses.

He may have done that check right away, but he was too curious about what on earth Granger could have gotten him: a fat and beautiful book, hard leatherback with gold leaf edges and a silk ribbon bookmark built into the spine. The front and back were crowded with detailed illustrations. The title was scrawled across the front and spine…_Fairy Tales._

He opened the table of contents, wondering if the gift was cleverly concealed inside this ridiculous book. It was fairy tales, beginning with things like "once upon a time…" He recognized none of the titles. They were muggle fairy tales. He knew he was drunk, but why would Granger give him muggle fairy tales?

Confused, he concentrated hard on slipping the volume onto his shelf. There, at least it looked nice.

Behind that book was a remarkably thin hardback with a brightly colored, odd cartoon on the front. He opened it, even more flabbergasted. A few words were on each page, like a proper children's book. Worse, the words rhymed! Illustrations proved it was in fact a proper children's book. Another muggle one.

What was Granger getting at? Unable to catch on to what had to be a joke, he tossed his drink in the fire. Well, he supposed as night became day, he might as well read it and find out her meaning.

A few minutes into the nonsensicalness, her meaning was abundantly clear. He was like the villain in this story, at least to some. Well spotted, Granger. But the alcohol and the picture of Lily had their effects. Even Severus Snape could not fight them in his weakened state.

First, he read it aloud, each word soaked in repulsion and sarcasm. He half wished Granger were here to see it, sure she'd be laughing. It was rather entertaining to him too, the ridiculousness of it all of course, that is until the end. Taken off guard, he found himself choking out tearily, "It came without ribbons! It came without tags! It came without packages boxes or bags!"

Damn Granger.

The bells pulled him from his weeping stupor. It was Christmas day.

* * *

A/N: Well Happy Christmas! (Yeah, I know I'm early) But my gift to all of you was the Ron break up. It took a while, but they are broken up, for now at least...hehehe.

Poor Teddy. Poor Ron. Poor quidditch boy. Poor Severus. What did you think of his gift?

I cannot tell you how desperately I want to post the next several chapters. Things are really going to get fun, and it starts off with a bang, I promise. Please take second to leave a quick review. It will help to know what your basic impression was or thoughts are, even if you can't say exactly what you enjoyed. I also like to know what you'd like to see/ don't like to see next. Anything is welcome!

Thanks for reading.

Yours,

Elsie


	14. Waning

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK. This is for fun, not money. Don't sue, please.

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A/N: Welcome to all new readers, and thanks to every one of you who have taken the time to leave a review! They truly make my day. They also keep me writing. I have just finished chapter 23, and I'm particularly excited about the next several chapters. I think they are my favorite, and I hope you like them too! Please let me know. As promised, starting with a bang...

* * *

Chapter 14: Waning

* * *

All Severus was aware of were his hands. Clasp inside them were soft, feminine hands. Her fingers were thin things, but gracefully curved with neat nails at the tips. He clasped and unclasp his palm beneath them so her nails barely scratched his thicker skin. It almost tickled.

Then, he moved his hands up, wrapping his fingers all the way around her wrists with ease. His fingertips touched. At the base of her hand, he could feel the faint thumping of her vein. He smiled as he felt her pulse even out and slow, calming. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

Gliding his fingertips along the top of her hand, he could feel the tiny bones just underneath the silky skin. They were so delicate, he could snap them easily, he knew, so he held them gentler.

He squeezed the palms slightly, rubbed the muscles there in small circles. A slight moan came from the woman across from him. His eyes were closed, but the dark room smelled of lavender. He smirked, massaging harder. He alternated between barely stroking her soft skin and tightly squeezing her muscles there. He could feel he was smirking more as her heart sped up and she hitched a breath in the dark.

And then, so suddenly he almost choked, he felt lips on his own. He did not open his eyes, though. If he looked, he might see something that made him stop. He did not think. He just kissed, passionately, with anonymous tenderness. The small mouth on his own was warm and eager.

The woman tasted so better than he remembered a woman tasting…perhaps she tasted better than other women…there was something familiar in the taste though.

"Lily?" He asked. Hair lightly brushed his face, another small sigh, a giggle. Someone, not Lily—he knew her too well—perched on his lap, thighs on top of his, hovering above him. She placed a kiss on his ear, making him shudder.

Their hands danced, fingers intertwining, down at his side. He opened his eyes, inches from the warm brown ones. Her full lip was bit in her perfect teeth; she sucked on it. His gut wrenched in horror so violently he woke with a thrash as if he were falling.

Ripping his covers off himself with a fury, he cursed, "Granger!"

* * *

Hermione Granger was relieved when she was finally back within Hogwarts. That fact should have worried her. After all, in a few short months this would no longer be home. But she did not have time to think about it.

She rushed happily into preparing for the first week of classes, reading ahead as much as possible, organizing her things, and putting down her schedule in the incredible life planner Harry had gotten her. Later, she planned to finish all the work Snape had hoped she might get started over the break. Some things never changed: she wanted to impress her teachers. She had to take a break to go down to dinner. Snape might be watching and she had to write down her dinner for Harry, she recalled rolling her eyes. It was a clever idea, she had to admit.

The tables were filling back up with students strung between excitement and homesickness. Everyone was discussing their gifts and holiday trips. Hermione was thinking of the time she had her family went skiing when someone called her from her reminiscing.

"How was your holiday?" Quidditch-boy, Rex, asked politely. Hermione forced a smile back. On the one hand, she was technically single. There was no harm done if anyone noticed them talking—well, no _new_ harm, damage done after the article. On the other hand, his interest in her seemed to be more than friends.

"Fine." She answered.

"Were you with Ginny?" He asked, sitting close to her.

She nodded. "And her family. And Harry and Luna Lovegood."

"_The Quibbler_ lady?" He arched an eyebrow.

Hermione nodded, defending her friend. "She's…creative, but brilliant. Did you know she was a Ravenclaw?"

He nodded. "I remember." She felt bad; she had never really noticed him before.

"Quite a party." He commented.

"It was a full house. What about you? Big extended family?"

He shook his head. "My dad and I usually take a trip together. We don't get to see each other much."

"Oh that's nice. Where did you go?"

"Ireland."

"Was it beautiful?"

He nodded, smiling. "We stayed in Dublin mostly. The city at Christmas is amazing." She listened to him list the things they saw. When he seemed to be finished, he looked at her as if she were turning into a brussell sprout. "What?" She asked.

He shrugged. "People don't ask stuff like that. I have a lot of friends and we talk a lot, but people don't ask personal stuff. They're afraid or they don't care."

"Well, you are pretty frank yourself." She was glad he confided in her, that she was easy to talk to, but she did not want to lead him on into thinking she was interested in him. Rex was right; had a lot of friends. He was very pretty, she'd say. But she just not interested. Not like that.

Ginny was surrounded by a number of students in her year, her teammates as well. A social butterfly, as some said, Ginny flourished in the increased popularity and fame. She stayed herself, true to her friends, not entitled or demanding, but she liked the attention. There was no denying that. Where it made Hermione feel uncomfortable and self-conscious, Ginny, and Rex too it seemed, felt at home in the center of a crowd.

"Was it awkward?" he asked.

"Was what awkward?"

"Being around your ex."

"Not really. We're still friends."

"That's good." He sounded unsure whether he was glad or not. "Thanks again for your notes. I got an Outstanding."

"I doubt it was my notes." She said nicely. He smiled broadly. Uh-oh. Was that flirting? Did it look like flirting? Ginny spared her a questioning glance. She shrugged.

"Get anything special?" He asked.

"Huh? Oh, yes, well, books mostly."

And then it hit her. The ring. She had gotten a gift from a secret admirer. She'd been careful with it, setting it aside for later. "And well, something anonymous."

"Anonymous?" He seemed intrigued.

"Well, don't tell anyone," She heard herself say quietly. It was nothing really, not even the first. She had forgotten it soon after it arrived, packing hurriedly for the Burrow. But if he had confided in her, it was only fair to tell him something too. Rex scooted closer, and she instantly regretted dropping her voice. She caught Ginny's eyes lingering on them while she was deep in conversation. "But I did receive a very nice gift from someone anonymous, but I have to be careful. It could be cursed or hexed."

If it was from him, he was faking surprise well. "What was it?" He breathed, his breath rustling her hair.

She swallowed, fighting the urge to squirm. "A ring. A nice one." To be precise, it was a ruby in a gold band, the edges around the gem carved to resemble a lion's mane. She half thought it might be from McGonagal or Ron, but he had given her the bracelet…

"Wow. Someone must really like you." He said simply, taking a drink. Perhaps. Perhaps it was the exact opposite.

* * *

She was in the library the next day when the owl found her. She took the note from it expecting to hear from Harry or Ron. Instead, she got a bit of a shock.

_Miss Granger,_

_I will no longer be able to continue our current arrangement. Please see me for your potion. My apologies._

_Severus Snape_

She stood up. She sat back down. Again, she read the note. When she had finished, she read it over again. And again.

What did he mean he could not continue their 'current arrangement'?

It seemed so brief and polite she thought at first he was just apologizing for not being able to continue that night or that week. But no, he had said 'any longer'. That meant it was permanent. Did that mean he simply could not help her sort out her mind anymore? Or did it also mean he would not be needing her assistance anymore either?

It was just so…unexpected. When she had left for the holiday, things between them seemed fine, friendly even. Yet again, she had managed to either completely misinterpret that man's actions and tone or had run afoul of another Severus Snape massive mood swing. What could she have done to deserve to be cast aside, denied his help? Surely, she would have had to have greatly offended him.

Was the Christmas gift perhaps overstepping? Maybe he did not catch her meaning. She did not think a couple of books could be taken so offensively, but she did not think kissing her constituted insulting either.

He was unpredictable, alienating, and hurtful. And she had half a mind to march down to the dungeons and tell him just that.

The suddenly, she had whole mind to do it. Hermione Granger had marched halfway to the dungeons before she had thought anything further. She had better do some thinking fast, as she had already knocked on the door.

"Come in." His deep voice resonated through the door. He did not turn around as she entered. Nevertheless, he greeted her, "Miss Granger."

"What. Is. This?" The biting demand made him turn. He had the nerve to look puzzled for a moment, then resigned.

"I have prepared some of the potion for you to take once per week for the next few weeks. You are to continue as we have been on your own. I have a book that might assist you further—l"

"I deserve an explanation." She cut him off.

He sighed. "I'll be right back." He disappeared into his private quarters. She was confused and frustrated, but she absolutely refused to cry. She refused.

He re-entered, his expression apologetic as he offered her a book and several vials in a protective holder. He offered no explanation. In fact, his face seemed to be begging her not to ask for one.

When she spoke, it was more of a breath than words. "What did I do?"

He almost winced, turning away. "You have done nothing. It is my fault."

"But-but you were helping me."

"And I will do everything I can to help to you."

"And what about your work?"

He raised a hand, gripping the wall, head hung slightly so that his curtain of hair fell around it, obscuring his face even though she moved closer. "Unfortunately I will have to continue that without your invaluable assistance."

"But why? Everything was fine and now, you're—you're—this is exactly what I was talking about! You're impossible. One minute you're the most logical, calculating, kind and gentle—" She stopped herself from going further. "And the next you're cold. No, worse than cold. You're mean. And you know it!"

His head pivoted towards her. "Miss Granger, please lower your voice."

"No." She narrowed her eyes.

"Then leave." His tone was icy.

She folded her arms obstinately. "No. If I've offended you enough to have you throw me out, then I deserve to know what it is and have the opportunity to mend it."

"I told you." He tried to bit back the words. "The fault is mine."

She shook her head, not moving. "Then, tell me."

He stood his full height, lips irrevocably pressed together.

"I don't deserve this." She said.

"There, at least, we agree."

"Are you so intent on remaining unreadable and aloof that you would chase away everyone, even someone who just wanted to your help, to work with you, be a polite friend? Is your solitude so important to you that you let people enjoy your company only to send them packing?"

He took a step forward, his voice soft but deep. She knew that tone. "You overstep." He warned her.

She scoffed. "No. I'm not McGonagal. She might put up with your distance and your cruelty, but I will not be treated this way, to be invited in and dismissed with so little consideration as to—"

He had taken another step forward, bearing down towards her eyes searing. He hissed out the words, "It's for your protection."

"W-what?" She fumbled.

Something flickered in his eyes. She could not read it. "Did you find out something? Did something else happen?" She whispered.

He paused a moment. "It's for your protection." He repeated. He sounded tired. She knew she would get nothing further from him. She knew she should _accept_ the vials and book, but she felt betrayed. She felt angry. She felt abandoned. And that made her feel stubborn.

"No thank you." She set them down on his desk and made to leave.

A hand wrapped fully around her wrist, stopping her. She let out a little gasp as his tug spun her back around. They were inches apart, her wrist brought to his chest. His touch was gentle, but his face was fierce as he sneered, "Don't be a fool. Stopping your process could cause serious damage. If you want to hurt me, slap me, don't harm yourself."

He said it with so much vehemence she only swallowed and accepted his gift.

"I'm sorry." He murmured, letting her go. Neither one of them had moved. She knew once she stepped away, he would not be as close or person again. It was step apart, physically and otherwise, between them. Knowing this man, it was permanent.

All she could was stare a moment, then turn and leave.

It was only once she left the dungeons that the weight of what he said hit her. If you want to hurt me, hurt me, don't hurt yourself. Of course, any teacher worth his salt would not want a student to harm themselves. But he had accidentally said that if she wanted to cause him pain it could be accomplished by harming herself.

Was it possible that in his bitterness and coldness he had actually communicated that he cared more than he wanted to reveal? Or was that just wishful thinking on her part.

Leaning against a window to look out at the frosted grounds, she sighed. Why on earth would she want Snape to care for more than he perhaps should? Was it curiosity or respect?

Or was the potion still working in her system somehow?

She could not just tramp down there and barge in again to ask.

Whatever Snape had uncovered, she would just have to uncover herself. She paced the halls, thinking. If she were in danger, the man knew her well enough to warn her, give her instructions at least.

So she was right. The danger was to him. He must have confirmed her suspicious by something that happened over the break. That was the only thing that happened since she left, the break. He had no obligation to share his personal problems, like a threat to himself, but distancing her from him 'for her protection', now that made sense.

Severus was in trouble. She must write to Harry!

* * *

Seeing his name in mass print was something Severus Snape thought he would never get used to, even after the many times it was printed following the war, trying to get the story out. He had to hand it to _The Quibbler_, they at least got it right and got there first. But then, the owner and editor of that magazine was actually present at the battle and no one from the _Daily Prophet_, or Daily Puppet, as he called it, bothered to be there.

Whenever he saw it—his name—he first thought: 'Oh, another Severus Snape. What are the odds?' Then, he realized they were talking about him. Once he read through the material, he was quite sure he had been mistaken and it must be about another Severus Snape, since most of it was inaccurate.

The strange looks he received from along the staff table and from the sea of students on their first day back made sense once he sat down with his paper. Of course, it took a moment. At least, the codswallop was back in the gossip column where it belonged.

_Potions Master Mystery Man?_

_Tall, dark and intriguing, Hogwarts Potions Master Severus Snape had long intimidated students, but emerging a hero, heralded by ever Potter the Vanquisher as a savior, master spy and brilliant brewer Severus Snape may be the newest interest of Hermione Granger. Sources say the professor has been giving Miss Granger private tutoring, and while not uncommon—Mr. Potter assures us—it certainly is eye-catching, especially when rumors have reached us that Severus Snape fell victim to Miss Granger's advances. What is this brilliant witch up to and she found a magical way to woo powerful wizards? It must be an unfinished product, for it certainly does not seem to last._

She was right. He could very well be ruined.

Unfortunately, he was forced to sit through a very long series of potions periods before he could take his leave without causing an outright panic. He expected giggling, whispering. What he received was worse: unparalleled silence. Only when death had touched the castle had the students been this subdued. Then they often slipped up, forgot why they were being quiet. Not that day. He could not even take out his frustrations by shouting at them to shut their mouths!

Still retaining enough of his self control, he was able to pass as utterly unbothered. He knew he was successful when he heard one student murmur to another as they left, "Do you think he's seen it yet?"

"Do you think Headmistress has? He'll get the sack for sure, hero or not."

"I don't know. She is an adult."

"But she's a student. Parents will freak."

He cursed Granger again. She was right. This could be an attack on him. The question at hand now was different… He burst into the Headmistress' office without warning. She was waiting for him, transforming from her tabby cat form as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Severus," She greeted, her face stern.

"How many?"

"I beg your pardon?" She sat down her glasses.

"How many owls have you had already, Minerva, asking me to be sacked?"

"None, which is precisely the number I would respond to." She firmly maintained. "I will not lose Hogwarts' best potions master, disrupt the school year, punish a valiant man, and betray a friend," she added gently. "Over a mere rumor."

"But it is not all rumor…"

"An ounce of truth in any lie," She waved her hand dismissively, sitting back in her chair. "We have more pressing matters."

"Someone told."

She nodded. "I'm aware. Have you talked to Hermione?"

He shook his head.

"We need to know exactly who she told. Both Potter and I are adamantly rebutting the accusation, as I believe is Draco Malfoy, but the_ Prophet_ is less interested in that story. Unsoiled reputations do not sell papers, apparently." She said bitterly. "Actually, I think Potter is threatening them, which may scare them into printing a correction, but we can't rely on that."

"I could give a statement." He said, pained.

To his relief, she shook her head. "You could only deny it, which would not help. It's best if you do not acknowledge it. Hermione could explain the lessons,"

"I won't ask her to do that. It's personal."

"Then, our only options is to ignore it. Treat it as the rubbish it is. I won't have it. All teachers will deal with perpetuators of the rumors harshly. I'm sure your Slytherins will defend you. Miss Weasley will defend Miss Granger. If parents hear nothing from here to substantiate it, then perhaps it will dissipate in time."

"Perhaps? And if not and they come demanding my head?"

"As I said, we will take care of it. I won't fire you over an outlandish rumor. Miss Granger is…anything but what they have made her out to be. Meanwhile, it's important you change nothing. Continue your lessons as if nothing has happened."

"There we have a problem."

"What?"

"I have canceled our lessons."

"Why?" What could he say? Because after you stuck your neck out for me, I had a wet dream about Hermione Granger. "You must reinstate them at once."

"Mi—"

"It will look suspicious, Severus!"

"You're right." He admitted. But he could not put his hands on her now. He could barely look into those warm brown eyes, at that small puckered lip. What was wrong with him? Was it possible the potion had a continued effect?

"Have you told anyone except for me?" She asked.

"Of course not."

"Then you need to talk to Granger about who she told. The truth. Any suspicious?"

"You won't like it." He told her. She waited for his answer anyway. "Mr. Weasley." He spat. "He already hit me, and I believe she ended things with him over the break. The news hit as soon as she returned."

Minerva said nothing, but gave a single curt nod. Her eyes were saddened.

* * *

He approached the Grffyindor table with his face as expressionless as possible. His plan was to mention to Miss Granger in passing that there lessons were back on for the night, hoping he could find a way to help her at a distance. But he was forced to stop mid-step to avoid running into a Gryffindor quidditch player, the potion master very nearly knocking the boy to the floor just as he shouted, "She would never with that greasy, old—"

It was rather insulting, though nothing he had not heard before. He gave no great reaction, though the words stung. The _student's_ face, on the other hand, paled instantly and slackened in horror, looking up at his 'greasy, old' professor. Severus glared at him.

Hermione failed to notice. She was busy shouting at someone else.

"HOW DARE YOU? How bloody dare you! If you want to call me a slut, then fine. But you have no right to disrespect that man by accusing him of abusing his position. He has done things…incredible things. Things you will never be capable of in your pathetic existence. And not only that, but he's also dangerous. Yes, dangerous." She laughed. "So if you do think of making those sort of allegations, you'd be dafter than I thought."

She whipped around, hair flying, and walked directly into his chest. His instincts screamed at him to catch the unsteady young woman, but with all eyes on him, he kept his arms at his sides.

"P-professor Snape." She said shyly as she might have years ago, blushing a bit, he noted.

Detached as possible, he kept his voice cool as he inclined his head. "Miss Granger, I will see you Saturday evening for your lesson and assistance with my project, will I not?"

"Yes sir." She replied with confidence.

He nodded and left, suppressing a smirk. Let them talk. They would never prove anything. There was nothing to prove.

* * *

A/N: Sadly, there _is_ nothing to prove...for now. Thanks for your patience in building this story. I know many of you said you appreciate the gradual progression of their relationship. I promise the next several chapters are going to get exciting. Hope you enjoyed this one! Let me know in a review. What did you think of Snape's dream? Who slipped word to the paper? And what about that ring?

The greater response I get, the faster I write more and up-date. You have my word next chapter has a LOT of Severus/Hermione time. Thanks so much for reading!

Yours,

Elsie


	15. Waxing

Disclaimer: Not mine. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

A/N: You guys are wonderful. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. I am so excited about the next six chapters. I won't say much, I'll just post them all very quickly as long as you want to see them, so let me know. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 15: Waxing

* * *

Hermione Granger stood in the doorway of her potions master's office on Saturday night. She leaned on the frame, arms crossed. She watched the man work a moment before he realized she was there.

"Miss Granger," He shook his hair from his eyes. "Shall we begin? Tonight, we will start another—"

"No." She said gently, smiling. She was not going to let him off that easy.

"No?" He arched an eyebrow, pausing mid-motion and straightening.

"No. One minute you wish me Happy Christmas, then you send me packing 'for my own safety' only to hours later say things were back to normal. I do not pretend to know what you are thinking, of me or otherwise. The truth is, I want this. I want to learn from you. I want to work under you. I think you are in danger. I would try to help you there if I could. What do you want?"

They both stood in silence. He was not sneering, so that was good. Neither spoke for a while.

"I cannot be as frank and open with you as you have been with me. I apologize for this and for my changing demands. The reason for this is because of changing circumstances; what I want has not changed."

She waited.

He sighed. "I want to help you. You helped me. You deserve to sleep soundly, and I have the ability to make it so."

"And the danger?" She prompted.

Very determinedly, he answered. "I will make _sure_ you are safe."

"Can you tell me what changed over the break?"

"I cannot, but I can be honest with you about things from here forward."

She was not satisfied, but she supposed it was a milestone of progress for Snape. "And are you done thinking you're right about everything?" She asked, teasingly.

"_I'm_ right about everything?"

"Oh that's right, I'm the insufferable know-it-all." She scoffed, stepping forward into the room and shutting the door. That comment had always hurt her feelings.

"You did have your obnoxious moments." He inclined his head. Was his tone almost… apologetic?

"Better obnoxious than malicious." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Indeed. I was trying to keep you from being a target." He said coldly.

"You were being a bully." She matched him.

"You hit Draco Malfoy!" He hissed. "You were a muggleborn best friend of the boy-who-lived and you made sure to make a spectacle of yourself in class. I was trying to make them think I had made you suffer enough, that perhaps if I meant you a personal vendetta if you were ever captured the dark lord might reward me with allowing me to deal with you personally." She shivered at the implications. He added half-jokingly. "Plus, you were annoying."

She stood before him, ready for her lesson, and told him evenly: "I don't care that I'm annoying. And I don't care that you're rude."

That stunned him into silence.

She smirked at that. "Shall we begin? You were saying,"

He nodded to her respectfully. "Indeed. Tonight I will attempt to enter your mind and you will attempt to shield it."

"How?"

He did not answer, his wand out. He gave her a moment to prepare. She felt a stab of anger, but quickly cooled it. Isn't that what Snape did? He stayed cool, like the inside of the dungeon, always the same temperature.

His face was unreadable. That had to be part of it. But how? Nothingness. There was no lavender. She slammed her eyes shut quickly. She could almost smell the herb, feel his hands. She squeezed her wand. Like trying to recall the details of a book while writing a test answer or remember the smell of a late family member's cooking, she tried to recall the nothing. Reaching back into her mind, the memory of their first lesson, she finally glimpsed it. She grabbed it, latching on, and dove into the empty blackness.

That spot in her brain, tugged towards the forefront, spread like an inkblot in water. It took over.

She thought she might have passed out, but she did not. She felt him in there, inside her mind. It was like physical contact, but it wasn't. He was not sneaking. He was announcing his presence almost audibly.

So, she tried answering him. "Sir?"

"Not bad, Granger." He said, or thought, she was not sure.

She blushed at the pride in his tone.

"I'm going to push a little harder."

"O-okay."

"Stay strong." She swallowed.

There was a prodding, like a sharp object. She winced as he pried his way into a memory. It was the night when Remus turned into a werewolf: she wondered if he felt her surprise, her surge of emotion when Snape leapt in front of them protectively.

She was on the cold, stone floor of the office, a hand around her upper arm lifting her to her feet. Her body still shook with the fear and adrenaline of seeing the wolf, its howl ripping through the night, chaos breaking out, its eyes looking directly at her but not knowing her, animal.

"Scared of werewolves?" Snape's deep voice teased in her ear.

She nodded.

"We'll take a break." He released her.

"No, it's okay." She shook her head. "I'm ready."

He stared at her. "Why do you always push yourself so hard?" He asked.

"You're one to talk." She told him smartly. "Go again." That was risky, telling Severus Snape what to do.

She closed her eyes, but it was harder to get into her nothingness before she felt him intruding. "It's difficult to shield after a penetration," his deep voice said. "Takes a great store of energy. Try to keep me out of your memory."

She tried to push him away, tried to recall the black cloud to swallow them up, but she felt him push through as if she had been holding shut a door and his stronger body had forced it open and strode in. She nearly feel backwards.

He was standing in her memory, she felt, watching her inch around the corners of Hogwarts, mirror in hand shaking. She was overcome with worry, knotting in her stomach, and did not feel much like a Grfyindor.

At just thirteen, for the first time she was facing the possibility of death literally around any corner. She did not want to be the next Moaning Myrtle—some poor teased girl trapped forever in a bathroom, or hallway. Hermione used to cry in the bathroom, friendless and alone. Now, all she could think of was getting to Harry and Dumbledore, telling them what she had discovered.

But she had to get there first. She scurried like a mouse, closing her eyes, biting her lips, whimpering as she snaked the glass around the corner dreading a spot of scales or fangs. One turn. Nothing. Another turn. Empty corridor. She held he breath then released it, her heart pounding painfully, the noise filling her ears.

Then, it happened. The yellow eyes she dreaded were staring at her, hollow. Her heart stopped. Her body stopped, stone stiff. She was awake the whole time, could not sleep. No one knew that. Her eyes were stuck open as her friends, teachers, came to see her. She tried so hard to tell them what she had learned that she burst a blood vessel in her eyes, gave herself a headache.

At last, someone found the paper in her hands...

She was falling again, his strong arms catching her under her own. "Sorry." She said, trying to stand. It was as if her feet had skates on them, sliding out from under her.

"Let me help you." His chest rumbled against her back.

She gave up, letting her body go slack. It was not listening to her commands anyway, so it could just flounder as far as she cared.

"How did you figure it out?" He asked, repositioning them so his arm was wrapped around her hips, holding her up and against his side as he drug them towards his door.

"Hagrid kept telling us about all the roosters being killed. Harry noticed the spiders. He was a Partsletongue, and he kept hearing a voice… it all fit something I read about a snake."

"It was very clever."

She sat on the settee. "Thank you."

"I always kicked myself for not figuring it out faster than a second year." He drawled, unamused. She giggled. "Know-it-all." He sneered. She knew he was joking. He was actually joking.

He sat across from her in silence. Over his shoulder, she spotted her gift on his bookshelf, well the fairy tale book. The other he had probably burned, she thought with a laugh. As the tea arrived, he grabbed the pot first pouring hers and hand it to her. She sipped it, smiling mischievous behind her cup. "Did you like your gift, sir?"

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, sipping his own tea. "Quite."

"You should read it." She smirked at him. "You might find it…enlightening." A glimmer of recognition flashed across his features.

* * *

"We have things we need to discuss." He said seriously, setting down his roast chicken leg.

"The article?" She asked, twisting her hands in her lap.

He nodded. "In a way. Professor McGonagall and myself," he was careful to add. "Think quitting out lessons at this time, for whatever reason, would look suspicious."

"Whatever I can do, sir." She sat up, attentive. She still believed, he realized, he was the target. For now, it would be easier to get her to cooperate if he let her continue to believe this.

"She also insists we know exactly who you told." He stared at her very hard.

"Harry, Ron, and Ginny, reluctantly."

He nodded. "Do they know everything?"

She shook her head, avoiding his eyes. "You surprise me." He told her. That got her attention; her head snapped upwards.

"I thought you told them everything." She gave no response. "You realize then," He sighed. "It had to be one of them. I know it's not my business," he glanced at the painting by his bed. "But did you end things with Mr. Weasley over the break."

"I did."

"And you think it purely coincidence that the story emerged right after that?"

"Ron wouldn't—it wasn't like that. We ended things civilly."

"Like when you told him the first time about the kiss? And reacted calmly, did he not, only to come here later and punch me?"

"Well, that was when he found out something new."

He shook his head. "He was already here, confronting me."

"Ron wouldn't do that. Harry would never forgive him."

"Then is it possible Miss Weasley was upset?"

"No, I don't think so, Ginny doesn't hide her emotions any better than her brother."

He did not suggest Harry. The boy, or young man, was not diabolical. It would have taken a lot of work to write to Snape about his anger over the article if he had been behind it. If he was angry about the break up, he certainly need not hide it, nor would the Prophet likely be able to hide that their source was the vanquisher of the dark lord.

"And you are prepared, as you say, to help me." It was difficult to say, the words leaving a nasty taste in his mouth.

"I am." She nodded.

"I think perhaps it's best if you redirect their attention." It took a moment. She nodded, understanding.

That was more than enough for the evening. "Oh look," he lifted a pewter lid on a side platter, "Éclairs."

She smiled.

* * *

Licking her lips from the rich taste of her favorite dessert, Hermione Granger walked back to her common room. She took up her favorite reading spot at the window, trying out one of her new books. She read until the team trudged in wet and muddy.

She smiled at Ginny who gave a tired sigh in response. Rex saw Hermione's smile and returned it widely, thinking it was meant for him.

"Hey," Rex greeted. "Waiting up for me?" He joked, wagging his eyebrows.

"Actually," she shut her book. "I wanted to thank you for standing up for me."

"No problem." She shrugged. "They have no right to talk about you like that. Ginny told me you never dated Harry either, he's like a brother to you."

She nodded. "Well, still, thank you."

"You're welcome, Hermione." He smiled. It really was a flawless smile, easy. "Consider us even, then."

"How?"

"Your notes."

She laughed. "Hardly."

"Look, Hermione," he took a step forward. "I want to spend time with you tomorrow."

She shifted in her window seat. That was bold. "Okay."

"As a date." He looked at her unusually serious.

Why was she nervous? This was her plan, wasn't it? "Okay. Where are we—?"

"Leave it to me." He said quickly, smile back. "I'll meet you here at 10:30 am."

"See you then." She tried to smile.

"See you then." He echoed. "Gotta shower." He winked, laughing loudly at her blush.

* * *

It did not take long for Ginny to find out.

She narrowed her eyes, accosting her in the common room in the morning. "You're going out with Rex?"

"We're just—well, I'm not sure what we're doing, but it's not a big deal. He asked to spend today with me, so I said yes."

"It's a big deal to him." Ginny informed her.

Hermione suddenly felt awful. She was basically using Rex, but apparently he had actually liked her. It was wrong. All she thought of was getting the negative attention off Snape; she did not want to hurt the kid. Maybe she could give the boy a chance, just keep an open mind. She had broken it off with Ron and nothing could ever happen with Snape...

"I thought he was quidditch boy. Is this why you broke up with Ron? I thought you were justified after his outburst, those girls flirting with him at work." Ginny said. Hermione frowned at that. "I know Rex is good-looking, but Ron is really hurt."

"Ginny, someone told the _Prophet_ about Snape."

Ginny paused. "And?"

"And it could ruin him! I only told you, Ron, and Harry. Did you tell anyone?"

"No! Of course not."

"Well, Snape did not tell anyone."

"Then it must be the person who slipped you the potion."

"But why wait until I broke up with Ron?"

Ginny looked like Hermione had slapped her. "You are not actually accusing my brother—l"

"Of course not!"

"Sounds like it." She said darkly, spinning on her heel and marching off angrily.

Well, that went poorly. Hermione did not have time to recover.

"Everything alright?" Rex was standing there, his dark brow furrowed in concern.

Hermione nodded. "It's her brother. Look, Rex, I don't want to make things difficult for you. You've already been in the paper once and Ginny is your captain. You don't need to be on poor terms with her. Maybe we should just—"

"Hermione, I don't care."

"You don't?"

"Are you ready?"

"Sure."

She followed him down and outside the castle, her uneasiness growing as his smiled persisted all the way outside. This time, she was thankful eyes followed them. At least it would quell the fires burning against Snape. To her surprise, they did not head towards the village. He led her down to the lake, which was still frozen. She wondered what he was planning.

It soon became apparent. He had set out a blanket in a beautiful spot overlooking the lake. The blanket was charmed so the bottom kept the snow from melting while the top to keep them warm and dry. There were also a couple small pillows on either side to rest their arms on or sit on, and in the middle was set a lovely brunch—a melon neatly carved and filled with chunks and other fruit, eggs benedict still steaming, fresh scones and muffins of various types, a platter of bacon. It smelled inviting.

Her stomach growled. She had not eaten yet. At least she'd have lots to report back to Harry. They sat, his expression almost sickeningly pleased with himself.

"This is lovely." She said.

"Glad you like it."

She popped a grape into her mouth. It was a nice meal, a beautiful view, all shinning with snow and ice—white and blue. Flakes drifted slowly down here and there. But it was awkward. He seemed so eager, so confident, so ready to impress. But he did not know her, not really. How could he like her so much and know next to nothing about her? She was no beauty queen.

But she was famous. Maybe he was using her too. Or maybe she was just trying to justify using him.

But she gave it a fair go. They talked a bit, chatted about classes, complained about the _Daily Prophet_. They relaxed on the blanket and ate leisurely. He complimented her, laughing every time she blushed.

"I still remember seeing you, my first year, when you went to the Yule Ball, you know?"

"You remember that?" She asked incredulous.

He nodded. "I think winter is your season." He smiled, looking directly at her. "Suits you." Again, she had to look away.

"Aren't you used to be complimented?"

"Not really." She admitted.

He shook his head in disbelief. "I think sometimes, you're so smart people don't look past your brain."

"Or my hair; it can be a bit much to look past." She joked.

"Don't do that. Don't make fun of yourself. I like your hair."

"Thank you." She picked at the blanket. He tugged her finger away with his tan one.

"You're beautiful, Hermione." She couldn't help it. It was a nice thing to say. It was a beautiful date. Ron had certainly never done anything so romantic for her, but something was making her so uncomfortable her body moved of its own accord, wanted to writhe.

"I have to go." She stood suddenly, the bottom of her stomach falling. "Thank you. I had a nice time," she blustered in one breath as she took off towards the castle.

She practiced clearing her mind as she spent some time with Hagrid and little Hermione.

"What's wrong with me, Hagrid? Why can I not date boys?" She kicked the snow in frustration.

"Nothing's wrong with you, 'Ermione." Hagrid insisted. "You're perfect. Not the right boy is all."

* * *

She avoided Rex the rest of the week. Ginny avoided her. Snape and she were careful not to avoid each other.

It all got rather lonely. Hermione included in her latter to Harry her list of food and brief explanation of the date and her fight with Ginny. It took him until Friday to answer.

The headmistress had given Hermione permission to attend the boys' penning ceremony, and so she decided to go get their present. It was not going to be flashy. She had been given a small amount of gold with their award and she had taken from her parents what she needed to finish school but had given no interviews and no inheritance or income. Of course, she had friends, but she was very much adrift on her own financially, a fact that was going to impossible to deny after graduation. In a few short months.

She eyed the ring she'd been sent warily. Perhaps if she sold that it might help. She decided she would keep that just in case, for later. Hermione Granger liked to have a plan.

She resolved to make the boys something thoughtful, magical. And so she began her work, a scavenger hunt of types. She asked McGonagall, Filch, Hagrid. She wrote to their friends, Neville and Luna. She searched the library collections, wrote to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and went through her own things. She picked up Gryffindor streamers and glitter and confetti. And to top it all off, she bought chocolate frogs until she got both their cards.

Harry couldn't believe the number of chocolate frogs she had devoured. "I think you are the one with a problem." He wrote. His was her only real friendship, except perhaps Severus, well Snape. She found herself looking forward to their next lesson.

She looked forward to his jokes and jibes, his patience, his intellect when they discussed magic. She felt safe with him too, felt relaxed after their work together. But she enjoyed other things about him as well—his voice, his scent. His arms.

And then she thought perhaps, with horror, the reason she could not date boys. She had an inkling of what might be what was wrong with her. Hagrid was half right; it was not that she was dating the wrong boy. It was that she was dating _boys_. Not men.

They were either oblivious to her feelings, how to treat a woman. She had to protect _them_, tolerate their jealousy, and look after them and their feelings, like Ron. Or they were overly romantic, pleased with their own cleverness at staged scenes and practiced compliments, like Rex.

Or perhaps it was worse. Perhaps she was one of those women that only wanted men who were uninterested in them. She was wild about Ron when he failed to notice she was a woman. Snape certainly did not find her appealing and would never see her as more than a know-it-all student. Well, maybe a friend, a colleague, and she was more excited about the possibility of Snape's friendship than about the interest of any of the young men who actually did want her.

Merlin's sake! Her best kiss was when Snape had attacked her. She had enjoyed it, she thought shamefully.

She was about to turn and run away from the lesson when Snape opened the door. "Miss Granger, are you alright?"

She must have been pale. She nodded. What could she say: We can't continue or I might fantasize about you? The lesson began. Snape leapt into her memories with ease this time—first the pain and terror at the ministry, then seeing Harry's dead body.

"You're distracted." He said annoyed.

"Sorry."

"Perhaps you're too exhausted from your date." His voice was venom. She looked up in surprise. Then, she laughed. She could not help it; she laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"With Rex? I thought that's what you wanted."

He seemed puzzled.

"I was trying to get the attention off of you." She had never seen him look so shocked. "Ginny is furious with me, by the way. She thinks whoever told the paper was the same person behind the potion."

"It's possible. So you are using this boy, then?"

"He's using me." She shrugged.

His eyes narrowed. "Using you how exactly?"

"Not like that. He wants to go out with the older Hogwarts hero girl, that's all. I gave him one brunch. I made no promises."

"I see. Why?"

"I told you," She clutched her head. "To help you."

"Why would you do that for me?"

Her head was truly pounding. "Sir, I need to sit down."

"Are you alright?" His tone was changed, and he had already crossed the room.

She went to answer that it was just a headache, but not for the first time she felt chills along her skin as he touched her. He probably had not even noticed his hand gently cupping her elbow, barely touching the small of her back.

She nodded.

"Your heart is pounding." He observed.

She paled. If he had any idea why her heart was pounding…

There was a rushing in her ears as they made it into his rooms, dinner waiting for them. Spotting the food triggered her memory. She whipped around, inches from the potions master.

That was it! The potion. The effects of the potion must be more than she thought. They must have stayed with her. That explained everything. She was not sure it was possible for it to stay in her system that long, but this potion had been different from other love potions... She opened her mouth to ask, but quickly shut it, biting her lip.

She would have to admit she was having impure thoughts about him. He would certainly call the lessons and the project off then. And what if she was wrong and it wasn't magic causing them? She would die from embarrassment. Or he would kill her.

She sucked on her bottom lip. Snape searched her face. "What is it?" He demanded.

"P-professor?" She asked tentatively. "Is it possible the potion could still be, er, effecting me?"

He tilted his head curiously. "Why do you ask?"

She gulped. "I—I still want to kiss you." She barely murmured. He let go of her arms as if burned, but his face was stone.

"Typically, a potion passes through your system and no longer has any effect, but it is possible you have been receiving additional smaller doses. How long has this been—that is, how long have you—"

"I'm not sure. Weeks."

He nodded. "Wait here. I'll be right back with the anecdote. Then we will know."

He left. She stood in his bedroom, blushing furiously, cursing herself for not asking sooner. It had to be the potion, didn't it? What if he gave her the antidote and it did not help? Well, then she would lie and say it had worked.

She busied herself with staring at the perfect bloom in its glass case. That's when she spotted something next to it, laying in an open black box. It was a ring, silver wrapped around an emerald. It was not just a striking ring, it was strikingly similar to the one she had received.

Had Snape received an anonymous ring as well?

Knowing the man would never leave anything unsafe out, she gingerly lifted the ring from the box to examine it. She felt her fingertips close over the cool metal, and then she screamed.

* * *

A/N: Shameless cliffhanger, I know. Not only that, but as I said this is my favorite stretch here and it's pretty much non stop for the next several chapters. I can't thank all of you enough for reading and supporting this thus far. It's been so fun. Please take a second to review; the more I get the sooner you get the next chapter. I swear I'm actually a Ravenclaw.

Yours,

Elsie


	16. Weakness

Disclaimer: Not mine. Please don't sue.

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A/N: Someone suggested I post the rest today since it was such a terrible cliff hanger. And you know, I agree. You guys went out of your way to leave reviews at top speed, so to show my appreciation for all the response, here's another chapter already! Warning: mild language and worse, edited quickly so please forgive any typos!

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Chapter 16: Weakness

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Severus Snape was trying to push from his mind— utterly forget—that Miss Hermione Granger had just said she wanted to kiss him. It was absurd.

She was a pretty, young woman, much younger and much more attractive than he, he thought as he went directly to his stores for the cure. He had serious doubts that the potion was still in her system or that it could still have any effect on her. Granger should know this about the ways potions work.

But she wanted to kiss him? It had to be potion. He had kissed her before, rather roughly, by surprise, and without her consent. While she had remained calm, he had been certain he had terrified the poor girl. She could not possibly, in her right mind, want to repeat that experience.

And even if she did, he would rather forget it.

For a long time, he could not allow himself to think of kissing anyone. He did not deserve such happiness, such experiences, when he had sought to steal them from his best friend. Since the only woman he had ever wanted to be with was gone, kissing was obsolete.

And then, for years he could not dream of kissing anyone he might want to kiss, though there were women he wanted to kiss eventually—he was only human. Charity, for instance, was a mistake. The little attention he'd given her as they shared the castle had led her to actually plead with him to save her in front of Riddle. Of course, he could do nothing to help her. Nagini had devoured her before him.

He knew what would befall anyone he even appeared to get close to: they would become a target, so he mastered himself, his desires. It had been so long since he could kiss anyone he wanted to kiss that he hardly knew who he wanted to kiss.

But Granger was out of the question. He could not even entertain such an idea. He'd known her since she was a child, though she was no longer a child and seemed to grow more mature and more lovely with each day, unbeknownst to her. There could be no complications in their friendship, nothing to agitate her trust in him. This was more important.

Potter, though the young man had deep respect for his former professor now, would not take kindly to him taking that sort of interest in Granger, nor would the Order, or his colleagues. In fact, any future contact of that nature would seem to confirm he had been inappropriate with a student, as the article accused. Therefore, it was even more important that he never, ever think about what Granger had said. She could not have meant it, and if she did mean it, he could not entertain it. If he did, he might find he was not as bothered by the idea as he should be. That could simply not happen.

It should have been easy for such an accomplished occlumens to rid his mind of those words, "I still want to kiss you." But it was not until he heard her screaming that their echo fell away.

He knew at once something was terribly wrong. It was not a scream of surprise, like a spider had crawled up her leg. It was a horrible scream, the kind that had filled Malfoy Manor so many an evening, bouncing off the marble.

Antidote vial in hand, he made swiftly for his quarters. He burst back into his room to see Granger sprawled out on the floor, her back arched unnaturally and face contorted in agony. He watched her for a second, the air sucked from him forcibly.

Her eyes were the worst part, bright with pain but also welling, trickling over. She was crying. The screams stopped abruptly, but her mouth was still open, as if howling in pain still. And that's when he realized: she couldn't breathe.

He went to her, got onto his knees, but her body was too rigid to hold, convulsing violently. Her hands tore at her throat, like she was trying to rip it open to get air. He grabbed her small wrists and wrenched them away from her throat. Her eyes pled with him to let her breathe.

"I'm trying." He told her. "I've got to spell you." He took her thrashing body in his arms, holding by the back of her neck and her wrists in his other hand. He sat on the floor where he had kneeled, his back against the foot of his bed, she in his grip. She seemed beyond communication, her glistening eyes staring up helplessly.

Quietly, he murmured something to put her into sleeplike trance and summoned a bezoar. He shoved it into her mouth. Closing it with his hand, he forced her to swallow. Then, holding her head back, he dripped the cure to the love potion down her throat. She swallowed that as well. Nothing happened. Her body lay limp against him, her legs stretched out from their side at a ninety degree angle. Her lips grew blue.

He felt his chest and throat constricting.

Her breath was coming in shallow takes, slowly. She looked like she was sleeping, but he knew she wasn't; she was dying, and unless he found out what was wrong with her very soon, she would be dead. He cradled her torso and head, her hair falling wildly on them both and glimmering gold in the firelight.

He looked up hopelessly at the stone ceiling then around at the floor for any hint... The glimmer of the stone caught his eye, green and silver sparkling on the wood floor. He realized in a rush that she had dropped the emerald ring when she fell. It had hurt her.

Why, why had she touched it?! She knew that could be dangerous, but of course, he had left it out without warning. She would have assumed it safe. "Damn it!" He growled aloud to no one. Quickly, he began every spell he knew to reverse the damage the curse may have caused. He recited each of the Latin words like a prayer, scrounging his brain for every possible spell. This girl could not die in his arms. This could not happen. Not again.

She was growing paler. He blew on her face, trying to keep her breathing. He shook her, forcefully.

Her lips, inches away from his own, grew pink again. In that moment, they were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He nearly kissed them. Panic subsided, almost painfully releasing his chest. This made an ugly noise. He gathered her up and held her tightly in relief. She was unconscious, and no one need ever know he lost it.

After a moment, her breathing had returned to normal, so he brought her back to the world gradually rather than at once with 'inerverate'. "Miss Granger?" He called, shaking her slightly. "Miss Granger, wake up." She did not move. Somewhat concerned again, he shook her with more force. "Hermione!"

She woke gasping for breath as she remembered no doubt the pain from before, the panic. "You're alright." He assured her. "You're safe." She relaxed, her body sideways across his lap, resting her head against his chest as she caught her breath and rubbed herself with her hands, checking to see if she was intact, he guessed.

"W-what happened?" She asked weakly, her hands on his shoulders. She sat up from where she laid perpendicular to his legs, facing him. He rested his head back on the foot of his bed.

"You answered my question." He replied.

"What question?" She blinked.

"Whether that ring," He pointed to it on the floor, its face dancing with the flicker of the nearby flames. "Is cursed."

"I just thought—it was out, so—I shouldn't have touched it anyway."

He shook his head. "I should never have left it out in the open, so inviting. It's my fault."

"It was …really bad." She rubbed her hands down her legs.

"What happened?" He asked softly.

Suddenly, she sprang up from him. That was a bad idea. She was unsteady, so he tried to catch her. She latched on his arm, nails digging into his forearm, squeezing. "That's why they sent it."

"What?" He asked, ignoring the pain.

"I got one too. A ring, like that but it had a ruby and the band was gold." He understood the implications. "Maybe the love potion was not the goal. Maybe it was test run. Maybe they weren't testing the potion, maybe they were testing if they could get to us, how best to do so."

"Then why the ring?"

"They weren't sure the last method worked?"

"They should be sure now with rumor." He objected.

"But they sent the rings over Christmas." That was true. "That was before the kiss came out in the paper, so they would not have known to potion worked."

"If you're right, Miss Granger, someone may be trying to kill both of us."

She paled.

"Sit down." He told her.

"No, it's alright. I'm fine." She tried to shrug it off, shaking her head.

"Sit down." He said more forcefully. He was not having any of that nonsense. "You've just been cursed. We don't even know what the effects are yet."

"Do you know the curse?" She sat down gingerly on his bed.

He shook his head, looking down at her. "I did several reversal spells at once. It would help to know what it felt like."

She gulped, looking at the floor. "Fire. It felt like fire. At first, it just burned everywhere. Then, it was choking me, and I couldn't breathe. There was smoke stinging my eyes and—"

"It's alright." He reached his fingers out to graze her face, the least amount of contact he could make to bring her back to reality. "It's over."

"Thank you."

He shook off her thanks; it was his fault she nearly died anyway. He walked over to the spot on the floor where the ring lay, step by step, and stared at the dangerous object glinting in the firelight a moment. Then, he picked up the ring.

"No!" She screamed. Nothing happened. She stared at him.

He tossed it once into the air and caught it again. "As I thought, it only held one touch. A weak spell, though awful." He explained.

"And what if it hadn't?" She gasped, recovering.

"You would have thought of something." She frowned at him. "This was a remarkably simple dark spell." He said as he held up the ring.

"Well, then it was test run as well." She thought aloud.

"For what?" He asked. She shrugged. He had not expected her to know that.

She had quite a miserable night. "We had better get you into bed." He said, tossing the ring aside. She raised her eyebrows. He was about to correct her on her assumption, but decided wickedly to have a little fun instead. Granger often enjoyed his sense of humor. He strode back over to the side of the bed where she sat. "Well?" He asked innocently. She looked about her at the bedcovers. "Don't you want me to send you back to your bed?"

She released a breath. He smirked inwardly at his mischief. "I cannot exactly let you walk the halls. It is my belief, Miss Granger, whoever did this is or has contacts inside Hogwarts." She nodded, unsurprised. He added, "I believe you were being followed that day you… overreacted, and though I know you will disagree with me, I believe one of your friends is involved."

"I do disagree, sir." She scooted back on top of his bed towards the headboard. "Why risk their lives to save me then decide they want me dead? And even if they did, they would have ample opportunities to do so."

"Perhaps they are not acting of their own volition. I seem to remember Miss Weasley falling victim to such before…"

"I just, I think that's the wrong place to look." She struggled.

"I know," he said sadly. "So did Lily." He pulled back the covers with a flick of his wand.

"That's not going to happen again." She told him firmly.

"It very nearly did tonight." He stared at her pointedly. She had no reply. "You have to get under the covers." He sighed. She blushed and did so, pulling his silk sheets up to her chin.

He murmured the spell, and she disappeared. The sheets fluttered and fell back flat against the empty bed.

* * *

If Hermione Granger knew Severus Snape, he was pacing the length of his room at that moment. She pictured him there, going to and fro, his shoes taking his frustrations out on his poor floor.

She sighed, rolling over and looking in the direction of the ruby and gold ring she knew to be resting out there in the dark of her room on the desk. She was glad she had been careful with it before but kicked herself for touching Snape's private possessions and getting herself cursed. Nearly killed, according to him. It was much more alarming than someone following in the shadows, a love potion and awkward scenario resulting. She could have suffocated on the floor, in wild pain. Her skin still felt warm to the touch.

That spell had been awful, but easy Snape had said. Who would slip her a love potion then an easily cured hexed ring? Pretty poor murder attempts, but what other motive could be behind such a strange turn of events? The idea that this was a test run for something bigger seemed to be the only thing that made sense to Hermione. Muggle terrorists sometimes did things like this to gauge response times and security points. But who were they and what were they testing?

She turned over again with a huff and thought, starlight streaming through the window.

It could be a test to see if they could get to her or to him. But why do a dry run? Why not send their most effective efforts first? The answer to that could be only two things, as far as she could see. Either they could be trying to avoid detection or they could be intentionally torturing them.

She knew Snape was correct: likely it was either someone in Hogwarts or someone with connection in Hogwarts they were using, by design or control. Or someone was testing to see if they could get into Hogwarts?

To get to both of them? One of them? Maybe it was to see if they could get past them, not to them, distract them even. Maybe someone was trying to attack Hogwarts. But that was unlikely. She was being hyper vigilant again. She thought of Moody. That made her laugh aloud in the empty room.

So probably someone was trying to ruin Snape and maim or kill them, possibly terrorizing them first. Since they could have gotten to them and had not, whoever it was they were taking their time. But who? Obviously, the answer was most likely a death eater wanting revenge, but why against her? She supposed she was a muggleborn. Maybe they were going after her first… then. She need to warn Harry and Ron!

She sat up, but stopped with the covers half off. But they were Aurors, surrounded by professional dark wizard catchers. Maybe that's why they were going for her first: they were untouchable but hurting her would hurt them.

Then why target Snape at the same time? He was the traitor and Harry spoke very highly of him now. If whoever this was could hit her and Snape, vicariously hitting Harry and Ron, then Ginny might be in danger too.

She would have to warn Ginny immediately.

But Ginny had not gotten a ring or a potion…though it would have been as easy to send something to her at Hogwarts.

Could Snape be right? Could it be Ginny? Her first thought was no, but that had been Lily Potter's first thought too. And her last one was probably how wrong she was.

But Ginny had fought with them…she was quick to anger, brave, Hermione argued internally. Yet Ginny was angry with her, she remembered, and Wormtail had been a Gryffindor too. Ginny had been possessed before too by Riddle's diary… With a growl of frustration, she smashed her pillow on top of her face.

It was hours before she could finally fall asleep, her mind spinning with theories, turning them over, getting them confused as she grew sleepy. Every other moment, she wanted to leap from the bed and tell someone, want them, ask them for their help. But every other moment, she was paralyzed by uncertainty. She stayed in bed.

* * *

Hermione Granger woke in the early morning, when the sky was pink and grey, but she did not see it. She was lying in bed savoring the last few minutes of sleep before she could no longer wallow in the foggy cloud of sleep. As her mind started to clear, she vaguely wondered why the room was not cooler, why the light, faint as it was, was not touching her face. She ignored this, throwing her leg over to the side and tugging on the covers to pull them over her face.

The covers were … _wrong_. While the room felt warmer than she expected with the iced window and usually dwindling fire, the sheets were cool and soft. They were silky. She rubbed the soft fabric against her cheek, smiling to herself. Silky.

Silk.

Snape had silk sheets.

She did not.

Oh shit.

Her eyes flew open, and she cursed her full bladder because in that moment she thought she would pee. The only that stopped her was the horror at the thought of waking Snape to tell him she'd wet his bed. Oh god. Oh god. Oh god.

The room was dark, but the still roaring fire lit the shape of the settee, the wardrobe near her, and the frame of that painting she still had not seen. She was in Severus Snape's bedroom.

Immediately, she knew one thing: she could not, _could not,_ wake the beast next to her. She was betting he was a light sleeper, so this was going to be no easy task. If he did wake, she couldn't even pretend to be under the influence of the potion because she had no idea how she got into his room.

Wait. How had she gotten into his room?

Was it possible that while she slept someone had stood over her and performed a spell to reverse the one Snape had performed? She shivered. They were _that_ close.

A slight moan rumbled near her. Very near her.

Slowly, very slowly so she did not move the bed, she turned to confirm her fears. She stopped herself from gasping loudly. Severus Snape was lying on his back, inches from her, his head propped up a little on the pillows. His face looked like a statue of someone important, so strong and elegant, pale enough to be made of marble. He looked peaceful though, the way he had when they had found him…except now he was breathing steadily and evenly.

She had to slide out of his bed making as little movement as possible. She had never tried anything so hard in her life. Inch by inch, her muscles screaming to move, she slid one leg off the bed. Slowly, she stretched her toes towards the floor. She felt an uncomfortable tugging on her inner thigh stretching so far at that angle, but at last her foot touched the cool surface of the hardwood floor.

Next, she had to slide the blankets off of herself without disturbing his side of the bed. Taking her hand, as gently as she could, she brushed the covers away like sand sticking to her skin on a beach. They fell. She released a breath.

Snape's chest rose and fell under his side. His bare chest, she noted. Dear lord that man was built. She did not expect that amount of muscle. When she had been caring for him, she had conserved his modesty as much as possible. She stared for moment, then snapped her mouth shut. She could ogle him later.

She rolled over but then heard a slight snore. She suppressed a giggle. She could laugh later, after she died over this.

She slid off gradually, sinking to the floor as soundlessly as possible. It had to look ridiculous like a tangled marionette. She stayed there a minute, on his floor on her chest, holding her breath. She was careful to make no sound. In slow motion, she stood, looking back at the sleeping form of the potions master, his lips slightly parted. She went back to the task at hand, a stealthy escape. One day, she might tell Severus Snape what she'd done under his nose. One day.

There was only one way out: the office door. She knew that meant risking someone seeing her leaving Snape's office in the early morning hours, but that was something she would have to chance. The only other option was rousing the sleeping man. That was not going to happen.

She tiptoed, letting her eyes adjust in the dark as she remembered where each bit of furniture was. If he woke up to the crash of her breaking something, she'd probably be dead in a second flat. She avoided the foot of the bed, then maneuvered between the table and his chair. When she reached the door, she realized that getting caught sneaking out of his bedroom may be the exact design behind this plan… it may already be orchestrated for someone to be out there to find Hermione as she escaped.

But who could have gotten her there? Who could get into her bedroom but Ginny? Whether her friend was knowingly involved or not, Hermione knew she had to get out. She'd perform a simple disillusion charm as soon as she was through that door…

Slowly, quietly, she turned the door handle. There was faint click, and she began to push it open.

A screeching rang through the room, blaring. She barely had time to slam her hands over her ears and call herself stupid for setting off his wards before a spell landed by her, singing the door.

A shirtless, adrenaline stiffened and entirely conscious Snape was standing across the room from her, wand drawn. His veins were bulging, muscles tense and his face was furious. "Miss Granger?!" He roared and the room went deathly silent.

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A/N: Now this was entirely planned ahead of time, and I am sorry to leave you hanging again but it was necessary. I'll up-date again very soon, as soon as I hear from you. I hope you liked Severus' thoughts on the situation. Any suspicions on who was behind the ring? The paper? How Hermione ended up in Snape's bed? There were some very good theories put to me recently. Love hearing them. As I said, more fun to come for the next few chapters. Can't wait. Thanks for making this so fun, all of you.

Yours,

Elsie


	17. Worse

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended, no profit made. HP belongs to JK.

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A/N: Another record number of reviews: if I could, I'd give you all an Outstanding! But since I can't -life's not fair- I'm cheating and doing another early up-date.  
Warning: this chapter contains some disturbing images, mentions of torture because obviously they've been tortured before. Sorry I don't always include warnings. I'm out to scar people I guess.

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Chapter 17: Worse

* * *

_Slowly, quietly, she turned the door handle. There was faint click, and she began to push it open._

_A screeching rang through the room, blaring. She barely had time to slam her hands over her ears and call herself stupid for setting off his wards before a spell landed by her, singing the door._

_A shirtless, adrenaline stiffened and entirely conscious Snape was standing across the room from her, wand drawn. His veins were bulging, muscles tense and his face was furious. "Miss Granger?!" He roared and the room went deathly silent._

* * *

She really wanted to melt into the wall, or fall through the floor, or perhaps he could just have mercy and kill her. One little curse was all it would take. A flash of green light, and that's it. Green was pretty. There were much worse ways to go, like that ring earlier, for instance.

Snape crossed the room in a few long strides. His strong hands forced her arms against the door behind her. She collided painfully with wood with a bang. His fingers were wrapped completely around her upper arms, pinching the skin slightly. She winced, but did not fight, too surprised to move. The air was knocked out her.

"Who are you?" He ground out each word with such force she was surprised she did not have spittle flying into her face. She breathed in to reply, but he was impatient. With one arm slamming out against the door, he trapped her between it and his body, taking her face roughly in his other hand and forcing her eyes to look into his.

"Hermione." She whimpered.

Pity flickered in his eyes, but quickly vanished. He did not dare release her. Not yet.

"Prove it." He demanded.

She could not help but wriggle in his grasp. It was hard to think clearly. On the one hand, Snape's bare torso was so close she could feel the heat of his anger coming off of him in waves. She could smell his herbs, his shampoo. He was _so_ strong. On the other hand, the power was intimidating. He could overcome her physically and magically in an instant. His eyes bore coldly into hers.

"I—I can't think." She bounced up and down a little. "Please."

"You must," He said, almost pained. "Prove. It."

"You er—" She thought quickly. What could only Hermione know about him? She thought of the memory he had shared. "Your favorite dessert has strawberries."

"You have to do better. Could have guessed."

"You saved me from a werewolf."

"Lots of people could know that!" He snapped, slapping the wood behind her head impatiently with an open palm. She clenched her eyes shut, jumping at the sound.

"I don't know! I sent my parents to Australia!" She blurted. "Harry was a horcrux."

He dropped his hands from her, taking half step back. He stared at her in a mix of wonder and shock. "What are you doing in here?"

"I have no idea."

"I'm sorry if I frightened you."

"Not frightened really, but you can be rather intimidating." She looked down at her feet. "It looks like someone reversed your spell."

He shook her head. "I am not aware of a reverse spell for that."

"But it couldn't be apparation or any similar spell, not in the castle. I didn't come through the door by my own will or anyone else's, or it would have set off your wards." There were no windows.

"To be fair, Miss Granger, you do not know how you came to be in my bedroom, though, do you?"

"Well, no. I don't. I was asleep. I just woke up in your bed."

"In my bed?" He raised an eyebrow.

She nodded fighting her face furiously not to blush. "That's why I thought it was a reversal. I had not left my bed since you sent me back to me room."

He seemed to approve her theory. "Why didn't you just wake me? I could have injured you setting off the alarms like that."

"I don't know. I—I just couldn't." He sniffed at that. She saw him glance down self consciously. It was an odd look for Snape, self conscious.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

"Yes, it's just…"

"Just what?"

She felt a little shaky. "Whoever did it…they were in my bedroom…while I was sleeping." She looked up at him.

He nodded once. "And whoever it was nearly killed you tonight." He sat on the settee, his elbows on his knees he bowed in thought. "So why not do it then? Why send you back?" He rubbed his knees and sighed. "Miss Granger?"

"Yes?" She asked tentatively, trying not to look at his back, the muscles and scars. Unsure if it was alright, she took a seat in his chair.

He looked up at her through the curtain of his hair. "I need you to trust me."

"I've already told you I do."

"Yes, but I know you. You do not like to be…told what to do." She frowned a little. "I need you to stay at my side for the day. All day."

"Do you think you can bear it?" She teased.

He gave her a weary half smile. "I shall endure." He said sarcastically.

* * *

Severus allowed Hermione to summon her school work and her notes from his project, setting up at a workstation in his office for the day. She picked over his latest article of his research for the trauma potion with a fine tooth comb. He had to admit she had been a great help with that. She had an eye for all things technical, even keener than his own. In a few places, she requested more support for a point, history or explanation. Some things he had assumed went without saying did not. She had gift for organizing content as well, transitioning smoothly between topics. Her changes were very few, but they made a great difference.

The most he ever offered her was a single word: "Better." But she knew it was a lot coming from him.

It was easy to get caught up and then get ahead on his work with her scribbling away in the corner. She was quiet. When lunch arrived, she moved to it eagerly, but he put up a hand to stop her. He proceeded to test all their food and drink magically. He nodded; it was safe. She grabbed her tea quickly as a swiping cat. He snorted a little at that. He noticed she took her potion, his potion, again. They ate sandwiches in silence until a message arrived from the headmistress.

He sighed in relief. He had her accompany him to his meeting with the headmistress, so before they left, he suggested, "It would help the situation if we acted as though you were in trouble."

"Sure." She agreed nonchalantly, throwing her quill back into her well.

"This way, Miss Granger." He threw open the door, glaring at her and using his most admonishing tone.

"Yes, sir." She dipped her head, properly browbeaten, but a small smile slipped out. He returned it for a split instant.

She followed his long strides, scurrying behind, cowed. He scowled as hard as he could. He supposed it worked since a second year fell backwards to get out his way. He smirked at their rouse then restored his glare. At the office door, he stood aside for Miss Granger to go in and spotted Miss Weasley watching, whispering to the quidditch-boy.

"Now!" He shouted at Hermione, who jumped in surprise and hurried inside. He shot her 'friend' a nasty look and followed.

"Sorry," he murmured to Granger as they stepped inside.

She shook her head dismissively, her expression unbothered.

"Miss Granger? I did not realize you would be joining us." McGonagall said, producing a second armchair in front of her. Severus sat once Miss Granger had taken a seat. She looked over at him from his side, letting him begin the sordid story of the ring, though she kept annoyingly interjecting.

Once they concluded their tale, Minerva had to sit down. "Goodness. Are you alright, Miss Granger?"

"I'm fine." She was. He had to hand it to her; she had made improvement, he thought with pride in his potion. It was not just to his credit, though. She handled their private ordeal so bravely, with such tact, never insulting, never selfish.

"Who do we suspect?" The headmistress asked of them.

He glanced at Granger who stunned him yet again. "Ginny Weasley." She said.

The older woman looked like Hermione had shot her with a stunning spell. Before she could argue, Hermione explained. "Ginny is angry with me for breaking up with Ron. Right after that, the article came out. She and the boys were the only ones who knew. And Ginny is the only one who could have gotten into my bedroom last night. I don't think she's trying to kill me, and I don't think she's doing it of her own accord. She's been influenced before…" She finished quietly.

He bowed his head in agreement.

Minerva was less convinced to say the least. "By Lord Voldemort, who is dead. Have you told Potter of your theory?"

"No." She replied, not bothering to argue.

"Who else? Malfoy perhaps? I understand he visited the castle."

"No." they both answered at once.

"I see. Things certainly change, don't they?" She sighed. "Can you think of anyone else? Anyone who's shown an interest in either of you?"

"Rex Forthright." He answered at once. Granger looked at him like he was mad. "He's been particularly interested in her as of late."

"He's only a fifth year."

"He's very talented. Advanced for his age." Severus reminded her.

She said thoughtfully, "You said the curse was simple?"

"Why not attack me when we're alone then if it was Rex?" Granger grew restless. "Clearly, I'm not the target! They wanted it to look like Professor Snape cursed me if I died in his room whether from his ring or mistook me for an intruder!"

He stood. "Clearly, we are not going to get anywhere else with this now." He told them. "Someone inside this castle is targeting us with cursed rings and a love potion. The one was a poor murder attempt, but-"

"Or it was torture." She looked at the floor.

"What do you mean, Miss Granger?" The headmistress beat him to the question.

"I was thinking. The first attack had the potential to ruin your reputation or break up the 'golden trio'. The onlooker thinks he or she did both."

"Then, he followed you, trying to scare you." He finished for her.

"Or she." She nodded. "It's likely the rings weren't actually intended to be fatal—they figured someone nearby would be able to counter act the spell or uncover it,"

McGonagall picked up on the idea, "It was to torment you by intimidation or, if lucky, hurting you. He's playing with you." She realized in horror.

"Or she," Hermione repeated. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. "The problem is, if they sent potentially dangerous objects, accidental death must not be a fear, which means he or she might be building to that."

So that was her theory, he thought. "Miss Granger, that sort of sick satisfaction at a game of cat and mouse with reckless indifference to the chances of killing is only characteristic of one type of person."

"Death Eater." Hermione looked up at him, possibly fearful.

"Death Eater." He confirmed.

"We should tell Harry." Headmistress said at once.

"Only Harry." Thankfully, Granger suggested it first.

* * *

It was almost time to go to dinner. The Headmistress had insisted they both attend the meal in the Great Hall. No one would know Hermione would be sleeping at Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Weasley would be calling Ron away for a fabricated reason, as requested by McGonagall.

Until then, Snape had asked her to help brew potions and sort through notes. He was busy grading papers and did not even notice her slip a book off his office shelf to find a source for a note she was thinking of making. There was something she recalled he'd written years ago on the dreamless sleep draught that would make the whole narrative of his research more complete, more interesting in her opinion. Snape had been particularly accepting of her suggestions so far, so much so that she would think he was just being nice if it had been anyone else.

She was looking through the Half Blood Prince text when she came across something that caught her eye. A note, a potion he was working on in the margins. It was on a page with another love potion, a weaker one.

The notes called for ingredients that were easier to mask when put in food than the one in the test, she noticed. They also called for an element other potions were missing. A dark element. If she had not spent so much time with potions lately, she might have missed it entirely. It also included an aphrodisiac, so that it did not just create infatuation in the victim, but lust, almost incontrollable lust. In fact, the amount it called for was so high that an unreliable potion maker might actually kill their victim.

She looked over at the potions master, head bent over a fat text, cauldron simmering next to him. She opened her mouth, ready to say something, but what?

She did not want to move, did not remember deciding to do so, but she found herself in his store room, looking through the vials on the shelf with his trauma potion. These were all potions he was working on or had created, she quickly surmised. And one of them had the same name as the instructions in the text, Volo.

It meant 'to want' or 'to need' in Latin.

His words in the next room came back to her in a mind-spinning rush: "I _want_ you."

She gasped. From behind her, she heard, "Miss Granger?" She dropped the vial, shattering it on the floor.

"I—" He attempted, spying her discovery.

She shook her head slowly in disbelief, backing up into the wall of ingredients, tinkling the glass.

"Miss Granger,"

She could not hear him. She felt she was underwater. He was the one who invented that potion, a fact he'd hidden from her. He'd attacked her, then she'd been made to attack him. Ron had been right, and she'd been so mean to him!

"You—you,"

"What is it?"

"It's yours?" He blinked. "It's your potion! You did it!"

"I did NOT drug you." He stressed. "Please, let me explain." He took a step forward.

"Explain?" She laughed hysterically.

"Miss Granger," he warned her. "Calm down."

"You are the one who sent me to my bed." She said breathless as she began to realize. "You could have reversed it. And my potion was directed for me to attack you specifically."

"I did not reverse that spell nor did I slip us the potion. Someone accessed my private potions."

"That's how you knew it was someone in the castle!"

"Yes." He said calmly. It was infuriating how calm he remained. This was why he kept the text from her all this time! So she would not find the Volo potion in his notes and figure it out.

Again, she laughed. "How many times have you asked me to trust you? And you haven't told me anything."

"I've told you almost everything."

"Have you heard the expression 'almost doesn't count'?"

"No."

She raised her eyebrow, marching towards the door behind him. He put an arm across the frame to stop her. "Wait. I know you're upset, but you did promise to stay."

"I'm going to dinner. Then, I'm going to Harry's." There was much more she wanted to say. Much more. But she knew she was angry and hurt and she tended to say more than she could get out of later. He could be sensitive and, well, unforgiving, even if he was at fault, and mad as she was, she was not sure she never wanted to be on good terms with him again. She narrowed her eyes. "Move."

* * *

He'd ruined everything. He should have told her from the beginning that it was his potion, that someone had stolen it from his private stores. He had known from the beginning it was vital to gain her trust, and in trying to do so he had lost it after continually insisting she give him the benefit of the doubt.

Albus would be shaking his head, sadly.

It was over, he thought, forgoing dinner for several glasses of whiskey. Whatever friendship he had gained was lost. She'd even bought him a Christmas gift, for Merlin's sake. They had shared meals, memories, and a secret. He had not realized how much…

He could not remember much from the hospital—just Nagini, then pain, then depression, then months of healing. He was short tempered when he healed, impatient and in constant pain. She had been there then, Granger. He'd snapped at her for cleaning his wounds, but she patiently informed him she had been doing it for weeks and there was no reason to be miffed then. There were gaps in his memory. That bothered him. Harry had filled in the gaps:

_"She got rid of anything particularly depressing or embarrassing. She said you suffered enough. She found you, you know? Everyone thought you were done for, but she persisted. She brought muggle doctors, healers, even weird spirit guru people. Something must have worked. She said it was not fair, we couldn't lose you… and you couldn't lose your second chance." _Potter had said in a letter.

His second chance indeed! Her anger had been restrained when she had discovered his secrecy, unlike before when she had yelled at him that he pushed people away, sabotaged his relationships. She had been right. He wallowed in his memory, was especially ornery with his students, feeling his depression return. What was he doing with his second chance anyway?

He was surprised she showed up for their lesson. He had finally reached her last traumatic memory he had to face with her, the worst one- the torture at Malfoy Manor.

_Bella laughed and took her time carving the word into the arm of the squirming girl under her, licking the blood with glee, tracing the letters with her filthy tongue. There were people all around, but no help came from them. Just laughter, jeers. _

_She was alone as they degraded her, slapped her, ripped at her clothes, told her what they would do to her later... _

_"__Let me try her." Someone said._

_"__How does it feel?" Lucius Malfoy asked her with false romance. "To finally be treated the way you deserve?" He was the one in charged, it was clear. Bella led the torture. Malfoy senior was the designator, hands off to make sure they got answers and kept her alive and able to answer. He was there to make sure things did not get out of hand too quickly._

_And Lucius was happy, Severus could tell, eager to show Riddle who he had._

_They choked her, brought her to again. Then, Crucio! __He looked away as much as possible from her writhing, screaming until she was hoarse. They grew bored with the cruciatus curse. She did not. It hurt. He knew how badly it hurt._

_"__Stop." She knew it was futile to speak, her voice raspy, but she just had to say something._

_"__She's not going to give them up." Someone remarked._

_"__We will break her." Another promised._

_Crucio again. It wasn't as bad as the terror of being alone, of knowing what was coming. She felt repulsive, tainted by Bella's touch. She felt hopeless. _

He was sick afterward. He'd seen it before, hell he'd _done_ it before, seen worse, but she was a child, an innocent and brilliant young witch. They had no right….he was her responsibility to protect. It was his fault.

"I'm sorry." He panted, cleaning himself.

"It's okay. She was…disgusting."

"No, I'm sorry I couldn't stop it from happening to you." He could not look at her as she said it.

"What you were doing was more important."

"You don't think that, do you?"

"I know you would have helped if you could."

That was good enough. "I want to show you something."

"No, no you don't have to."

"It's nothing too awful, but it's only fair. If you can bear it."

"I'll endure." She tossed his words back at him playfully. Knowing what was coming, he could not smile.

_On his knees, Severus trembled so young and so afraid. He could not run. He would not get very far and he had nowhere to go, no friends, no mother. Not anymore._

_The air reeked of burning skin and urine. His face was pressed almost flat against the cool stone floor so he could only see a few of those around him, prostrate as well. They wept, shook violently. One had pissed himself but whether in pain or fear Severus did not know._

_Around those crumpled figures, he could see the feet of the men who stood in black robes. The black cloth of it caught on the breeze and billowed like the curtains beyond them. The sight filled him with dread but not the cold terror of the white feet stepping in front of him. He kissed them._

_He was supposed to feel something at this. He did not. His gut was torn, wanting to abandon this. It was not so simple; changing his mind meant choosing to die._

_"__Do you want to live forever, Severus?" the soft voice asked from above him._

_"__Yes, my lord." He answered honestly. _

_"__And do you want to be my blood?"_

_"__Yes, my lord." _

_"__And are you committed to the cause, with your magic and your life?"_

_"__Yes, my lord." There was as agonizing pause. Sometimes, the Dark Lord sensed they were unworthy or insincere and he killed them on the spot._

_"__Give me your arm, Severus." He hissed. Severus released a gasp in relief, trying to remain strong as he raised his arm but not his eyes._

_Long fingers wrapped around his arm, cold. Wand tip was placed where the mark would remain, and the pain started but it was nothing to the violation that accompanied it. He was inside his mind, his magic, his arm, everything. Severus wept, like the others, stuttered as he managed the obligatory, "Thank you, my lord." _

When it was over, he couldn't look at her again. He stepped away, facing the wall. He felt a hand on his own pressed against the table. He stared at it but did nothing, said nothing. After a moment, he heard her say, "Everyone makes mistakes." Just like that, as if that said what needed to be said.

Though in a way, it sort of did.

* * *

His article was nearly finished, his tests on the three of them complete. The sessions with Granger were over now that she had processed all her traumatic memories and learned to clear and mildly protect her mind. The school year would quickly head towards its end.

He took his supper alone one night in his room reading Potions Quarterly and found himself wondering what Miss Granger would say about the pointless study on the effects of a cheering potion on cats, or rather its ineffectiveness. She'd probably defend cats then make some comment about how if this could make it in, his work would be published in no time. He'd submitted it, of course, as well as to some international and more diverse magical publications and healing journals, as per her suggestion list.

Out of curiosity, he went to his bookshelf and retrieved her gift, and in the privacy of his own rooms, where no one would ever know, Severus Snape sat and read the fairy tales. They were ridiculous, really. It explained a lot about her mind...

He still wondered how it explained the flower Albus gave him, though she had hinted it might. He waded through a hundred of the short tales with poor maidens, beautiful princesses, and crafty elves. There were roses that hid fairies and elves, roses that pricked people and put them to sleep, roses that created love and deadly roses. He doubted Albus gave him a deadly rose. There was an interesting muggle take on phoenixes, and an excellent serpent story, the serpent being the cleverest creature.

Mostly, though, it was romance. And they all lived happily ever after. He sighed. How silly. How impossible. How _nice_.

* * *

A/N: Originally, I was going to leave you where she discovers his potion, but I did not put a third cliffhanger in a row to be nice! Holding my breath on this hufflepuff move; I hope you still all can think of something to leave in a review even if it's something you did not like or just an 'up-date soon'. How did you feel about the shirtless Snape confrontation, theories, memories...his potion? Please don't hate me for that.

As for a little foreboding, this chapter was called Worse because obviously things got worse...next chapter is called Worst. Oh dear. And the spree of my-favorite-chapters-you-might-hate-me-for continues.

Hope you're still having fun. Thanks so much for reading.

Yours,

Elsie


	18. Worst

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

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A/N: I cannot say how much I enjoy reading each and every one of your reviews-theories, encouragement, questions, and suggestions. Thank you so, so much! I cannot believe the number of follows and favs as well-thank you all!  
And the section of my favorite chapters continues...I hope you're still up for the ride! As promised this chapter is the 'worst'. It's a longish one. Enjoy! Also Warning: this chapter contains some violent, scary, uncomfortable stuff.

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Chapter 18: Worst

* * *

The boys' Auror training graduation was wonderful. There were so many faces Hermione recognized at the ceremony in the Ministry, a few she did not. All of them were so brave. They deserved it, all of them, standing proudly on the platform covered in blue, the big Ministry of Magic "M" behind them, as Kingsley personally called each by name. Harry was being made assistant director, Kingsley announced.

Hermione cheered with the rest, equally surprised. The journalists went wild at the news, nearly blinding Harry with camera light.

She tackled them both in a hug as they descended the platform into the family waiting area. "Congratulations! I'm so proud of both of you."

"Thanks, Hermione."

"Thanks."

"Well done, Neville!" She wished him as he passed.

"Alright, Hermione?" Neville asked kindly, giving her a hug. She handed him a letter on congratulations and a small gift. "Oi, thanks! Hi there, Ginny." Neville blinked. "I better get over to Gran. See you later."

"How come Neville gets a gift?" Ron asked.

She laughed. "Well, I was going to wait until later, but," She pulled out the fat parcels from her small handbag, handing them over.

"Oh surprising," Harry said dully.

"Books." Ron finished for him. She pretended to scowl. They tore the paper off and opened them, smiling in recognition, nostalgia, then pride.

"These are brilliant, Hermione." Harry said.

"Wow." Ron agreed. "How'd you even get this stuff from my quidditch games?" He poured over the detailed scrapbook.

"Some of it I had, some of it I wrote to Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood."

"Hermione," Harry's green eyes were glistening. "My parents are in this, the marauders, a young Snape. Me with Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Teddy. Even Hedwig."

"Fred and George." Ron touched his page. "Tags from their shops stuff, labels."

"A sock?" Harry asked.

"I talked to Winky. It was Dobby's." She murmured.

"Merlin!" Ron brightened the moment, his face lighting up childlike. "She got our chocolate frog cards! How much chocolate did you have to eat?"

Harry snorted in realization, sharing a look with her.

"I wanted to remind you how far you've come." She explained.

"You put a lot of time and thought into this." Ron noted. It surprised her.

"I always do, for you too." They both grabbed her in a hug again.

A camera flashed invaded the moment. Hermione backed off, giving Harry and Ron to the Weasley clan and stepping in front of the press. Ginny gave Hermione an odd look.

"Comment?" A witch from the daily prophet asked.

"I'll be giving a full statement," She told them as the bright bulb flashed, taking her picture. "In depth, dishing all the dirt and giving real details, my first ever post war interview. Nothing off the table." They listened intently, taking down every word. She smiled wickedly as she continued. "My personal life, the battle, what I experienced, all of it I'll be answering—for _The Quibbler. _Good day."

* * *

Severus only attended the celebration because three people asked him. Harry came in person to ask him first. Lily's eyes did him in, but the little bastard probably knew that. Minerva insisted his appearance would mean a lot to all the students involved. Miss Granger had stopped by on her way, her hair still wet from her bath.

"Please come," She said. Nothing extravagant really, no begging, no demands. She requested.

He was not sure he came because of Lily's son, because his boss kept pushing, or because Miss Granger simply said please. A part of him wished that maybe he was not beyond all hope, that one day he might have the chance to earn her trust again, unlike Lily. She had come back after all, days after her discovery, for that last lesson. She had spoke to him again, said 'we all make mistakes.' Surely that meant there was a hope.

He sighed on his way to the room of requirement, a small bag at his side, something for Mr. Potter. Hell had frozen over, he thought, as had the grounds in a frost. Inside was a party of professors, Hogwarts alumni who had recently passed auror training and a few of their close friends and family, Order members dotting. Essentially, it was a 'Potter and friend's' party. Kinglsey made a brief appearance, but Severus had missed just him.

The room was vomiting decorations, but the music was tolerable. He was forced to shake several people's hands right away, acknowledge all his coworkers, and congratulate each new auror before he could make it to the back table for a drink. It only had food, or little miniature versions of food.

"Damn." He murmured.

A glass of brandy appeared at his side, held in the slender pale fingers of Miss Granger. She watched her friends, surrounded by a throng of people and animatedly telling some story, as she sipped her own drink. Hers was something pink and sweet-smelling.

"Thank you." He accepted the glass.

"What's in the bag?" She asked.

"A present. For Potter." She choked, sputtering alcohol until she had to get a hankercheif and spend several seconds coughing.

"Alright there, Hermione?" Ron called over to her. She nodded several times.

"Imagine how I feel." He drawled. She snorted into her drink.

"It's not safe around you." She set her glass down, giving up swallowing successfully. He tried not to feel a twinge at those words. It was a joke, he told himself, she had not meant them literally. Across the room, Harry spewed his own drink after taking a long drag from a stein. He shot his brunet friend a reproachful look. Potter's face would have looked angrier if white liquid were not dripping from his nose.

"Did you just transfigure his drink into milk?" Severus asked her.

"Good for your teeth." She said simply. "Hear anything from Potions Weekly or Quarterly yet?" She inquired again.

He sighed. "They rejected the publication. Not enough tests to substantiate my claims."

"I have an idea." She said thoughtfully. He had expected outrage, a rant from her about stupid they were being. Instead, she left his side and disappeared into a group of people. A moment later she had returned, Neville Longbottom in tow.

"Mr. Longbottom," Snape raised a glass. Neville eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. "Your parents would be proud."

"Thank you, sir." He said in awe.

"Actually, Neville," Granger began, her voice low. "It's your parents I wanted to talk to you about."

The boy stiffened, glancing at the potions master. "My parents?" He shook his head, not understanding.

Granger glanced at the potions master, caught his glare, but continued anyway. "Professor Snape has been helping me mend my mind after my torture at the hands of Bellatrix." Neville swallowed. "His new potion has been very effective for me. He's also tested it on himself and Harry. I'm sure you can ask him about it." The two glanced towards Potter, who was dancing. "He hasn't been able to be published yet, not enough tests. I thought, if you wanted, you could try and see if there's any improvement for your parents. It's not a full cure, but a chance. They were part of the reason he began working on it years ago."

"Is that true?" His former student asked.

Severus simply nodded.

"Right now, there's nothing they can do for them at St. Mungos." Neville said. "I trust it won't hurt them, so if it does nothing, we're just back where we started. And if it does work, they might be better and you'd be—"

"We would not use this as publicity." Severus stressed, eyeing his assistant. "Miss Granger has been helping me with my research."

"No, no, I want to help." Longbottom said with enthusiasm. "You and them. And others too, if it works. It's brilliant."

"Thank you." Severus gave a little bow. "We'll talk more later."

Neville nodded and went to see an excited professor Sprout who was waving him over.

When they were alone, he spoke to her again. "You would use your friend's parents to help me?" He said unable to keep out some disgust from his tone. "How Slytherin of you."

"You're forgetting something." Granger told him.

"What is that?"

"I believe in you, that you can help them. So if anything I'm using both of you. I wonder if I were sorted again right now if I'd be a Slytherin. Your snake has rubbed off on me," she elbowed him. "But then again, I think if we were sorted right now, we'd be perfectly switched. To be honest, the whole house thing never made sense to me."

"Me either." He agreed, finishing his drink. "Miss Granger, excuse me."

"Sir."

A simple nod at Potter summoned the boy from the dance floor. "Sir?"

"This is yours."

"Mine?" He asked dumbly. Severus just rolled his eyes. "Oh you mean? Oh. Thanks." He opened it, peaking inside the little black bag. "No way." He murmured. "Thanks, professor."

"I'm sure you can think of a good use for it."

"I will, but I'm already so lucky." The statement was a mix of gratitude and guilt.

"Indeed. Congratulations. Goodnight, Potter."

"Goodnight, Severus." He let that slide.

He shot the hero-boy a look and left the party, walking down to his dungeons. Hermione Granger approaching Longbottom was probably the only reason the man was open to the suggestion. Severus wished he could guarantee improvement for Frank and Alice. What he had seen of their torture was horrific. But he had no way of knowing how it would help after so long a time on people so far gone.

There was hope though, perhaps a glimmer of it. After all, Granger had said she believed in him. She was a smart witch.

* * *

Hermione Granger had completed her work on the article with professor Snape and concluded her sessions, that were more like some magical psychotherapy, once she had parsed through all the memories that hurt the most. Sometimes, he showed her one in return. If he could get past his, surely she could get past hers. Other times, she cried and he was good enough to ignore it. And still other times, they talked briefly.

She had mostly forgiven him for keeping the fact that someone had stolen his potion, though she had not let him know that yet. He was careful around her still, and she thought it would not hurt him to be just a little while longer. If he had told her when they began, she might not have believed him that he had nothing to do with it, might not have trusted him enough to work with him. Now, she slept better, ate better. She was still a little paranoid, but then someone _was_ still out to get her.

So recently she avoided everyone but Hagrid. It would be strange not having him to go to any day at all hours. Ginny seemed saddened by her distance, but since it was mostly because she was in the library and she still tutored the other girl on Wednesdays the redhead chalked it up mostly to usual Hermione braininess.

Rex was not so easily pacified. She'd had plans during Hogsmeade weekend and missed the quidditch win party.

_'You keep blowing me off,' He'd said, sitting next to her on a bench in the castle courtyard. It was still cold out but sunny that day._

_'Not true. I came to your game.' She corrected._

_'Doesn't count.' He shook his head once dismissively. 'Your friend is the captain.'_

_'So? I hate quidditch. Look, it's just really busy—'_

_'Look, I like you.' He shrugged nonchalantly, not matching his bluntness. 'You like me or not?'_

_She sighed, putting down her book. She had only been pretending to read it anyway. 'Rex, you're a great guy, but I'm leaving Hogwarts soon and I just got out of a relationship. Now's not a good time for me to be dating anyone.'_

_'Sure.' He said, walking away. Well, that was brief. She was not sure if that meant it went well or poorly. Hopefully, he'd recover, but until then she felt pretty guilty. She had given him a chance, like Krum. She did not mean to be a heartbreaker. She shouldn't be. If the Prophet was right about anything it was that all this attention on her made little sense._

Meanwhile, she was focused on excelling in her final weeks of school, planning to return to the overwhelming task of a textbook with Snape sometime after graduation. Luna had offered her the opportunity to clear the air and Snape's good name at _The Quibbler_, and she had accepted that as well. She was getting out into the world, dipping her toes in it for starters, but getting out and it felt good.

Her black heels tapped down the stone corridor on her way back to her room after the auror graduation party in the room of requirement. Her curls bounced off her shoulders. She felt good, so good she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut.

She slowed, listening carefully for the sound of footsteps behind her. When she stopped, she could hear nothing. Shaking her head, she made a couple quick turns ahead, suddenly wheeling around to test if she was being followed. She thought she caught sight of a shadow slipping away.

Her wand felt warm in her fingers as she rubbed it in her pocket.

"Hello?" She asked.

There was nothing.

Turning back around, she changed direction, quickened her footsteps. If she could just get back to the common room, to Ginny and her friends... She was just passing through where four corridors intersected, near the statue of the one eyed witch, when she heard it: "Hermione!" Someone called urgently.

"Ginny?"

The girl's voice reached her from somewhere down the corridor. It sounded distant. Something was…off.

"Hermione, help!" Ginny squealed.

"Ginny!" Hermione looked over her shoulder, turning in a half circle with her wand out. "Where are you?" She yelled back into the dark.

"Here!" Ginny's voice rang from the shadows. "Hurry! Please!" She sounded like she was in pain. Hermione's legs burned to run, dart in any direction and see if the voice got louder, but her brain tried to break through her instincts to be heard. Something somewhere told her to wait.

It could be a trap, like Harry was tricked with Sirius. Ginny could be being used, or in on it. It could not be Ginny at all. But could she just stand there while her friend, Ron's little sister, and Harry's' girlfriend was in danger?

"What is it?" She asked the voice, turning again in the dizzying effort of trying to discern the direction of the voice.

"Hermione, please. He's here—" Something cut her off. He who?!

"Ginny!" Hermione sent off a warning spell to alert the auror's upstairs. Someone would come across the sparks and be alerted, but for now, she had to go after Ginny. She picked the darkest hall and sprinted blindly into it, her wand lit ahead of her.

She tried to keep track of where she was headed, running deeper into the castle, but it was dark and she was moving quickly. She called again for Ginny, but no answer came. Someone should be backing her up by now. She sent off more gold sparkles that hovered in the air where she left them.

Ahead, she would have to turn left or right. She picked right and collided with someone. "Omph."

"Hermione?" Someone took her by the shoulders. She shoved them away. "Hermione!"

"Oh, sorry, Rex. I was looking for Ginny."

"I know." He panted. "I heard it too. That's how I got down here. But a moment ago, it just stopped."

"Yeah." She said quietly. Wasn't this the person the headmistress suspected, the one Severus had said took a special interest in her recently? Was it possible he had just heard her at the same time? Or was Ginny luring them both to punish Rex...

"What do you think we should do?" He asked, his own wand out and lit. Rex just had a crush, she reminded herself... and she'd hurt him recently, avoiding him, turning him down because she was busy with school work.

"What direction do you think it was?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Around here somewhere. Should we check rooms?"

She nodded. "Carefully. No wait- we should wait on the others."

"The others?"

"The castle is full of trained aurors. I've sent an alarm. They should be here soon."

He whipped around, looking down the hall. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Nothing." His wand was out. "Nothing I thought— I'm glad you're here." He breathed.

She tried to offer him a small smile, keeping to herself exactly how useless she would be. In the direction Rex had been looking there was a crash. He nearly leapt out of his skin.

A flash of white light filled the end of the hall and vanished. "We don't have time to wait." She stepped in front of him. "Keep your wand out. Follow me."

Her heart hammered loudly as she chased the spot where the light had been. The hall dead ended.

"Hermione!" Rex whispered, signaling her over with a jerk of his head. He was crouched, wand at the ready, looking at the door to a room that was usually empty. A sliver of light escaped under the door, and a strange muffled sound was also making its way into the corridor.

She put up a finger, slinking against the wall over to spot and trying to make sure she went first. Her throat was tight, body on edge with adrenaline, every sense heightened, keen. She counted down from three before she would enter the room, wand first. Three. Two. One.

She illuminated the room at once, shouting, "Stupefy!"

The spell hit a chair stacked against the wall. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Something was wrong. Ginny was not there. No one was. A small device on a table was making light reflections across the walls. She neared it carefully to examine it. For a moment, it looked foreign, but it was not, she just never expected to see it there: an infant nightlight, throwing shadows and shapes of sea creatures on the walls. She stopped it. It made no sense.

"Rex, this is—"

"I know." He said plainly from the door. "My father is a muggle, remember?"

She dropped it. "We have to go. Someone lured us in here."

"No." He blocked the door. She stared at him, feeling uncomfortable again. She did not have time to argue with him. Her instincts were screaming at her to run.

"No? Rex, listen someone put that in here to get us in here." She tried to push past him.

"No." He corrected patiently. It was maddening! Why wasn't he listening?

"They put it to lure _you_ down here." He said.

"What?" But by the time she had thought about it, he had hit her hard in the head and the ground rushed up to meet her face.

* * *

She woke on the floor of the empty classroom, aching. That's when she realized her mistake: Ginny had still been at the party when she left. Someone had lured her down here with Ginny's voice and the light...no, not someone...Rex! Rex?

Hermione's head was throbbing. Looking down, she saw her hands were bound, her shoes magically fixed flat to the floor so her legs had to bend. They were spread apart the distance of her shoulders. Since she was wearing a skirt, she was glad she was wearing tights under them or she'd be flashing to room and the doorway. For now, it seemed to be just her and quidditch-boy.

"Your dad's a muggle." She said, her voice croaking. Rex's head snapped from where it looked out the window. "You set up the trap."

"And my mom was witch," he tossed an object up in the air, catching it. He threw it towards her and she recognized the label: a Weasley Wizard Wheezes product. He laughed coldly. "Used their own voice mimicker to mimic their sister. Can't wait to see their faces. Oh wait. Face." His words choked her a moment.

"If you hurt Ginny, I swear I'll—"

"I did not. Why would I? She's a pureblood."

"A what? But you, you said your mother was killed in this war!"

"I did." His eyes flashed. He looked completely different. "But I didn't say it was the hand of Lord Voldemort." She swallowed. Only one type of person, as Snape had said, would use that title: death eater.

"Then who?" She asked. She did not care. She was trying to buy time. They would find her soon.

He snarled the answer like an animal, "Alastair Moody!"

This was bad. She tried to summon her wand wordlessly. "It's safe." He told her, calm again. He must have sensed her trying to get her wand.

"Look, I'm sorry about your mum, I am. I didn't start this war! I was a child."

"You are a mudblood. And if it weren't for you, things would have been different."

"You're a blood purest?" She scoffed. "But you're a Gryffindor!"

"And aren't I brave?" He said softly. "Going after the great mudblood hero, Hermione Granger herself. Nearly seducing her, nearly killing her." Of course! He had been curious about the ring, even asked her about it.

"…and now, I'm going to—"

She couldn't hear the next bit. "You do know Riddle was a half-blood?" She laughed.

"How dare you call him that?" He marched over, grabbing her sleeves and ripping the fabric away roughly with a single hand. "Or did you forget?" He pressed his fingers, short nails into her flesh where Bella's words were carved.

"Ow!" She screamed, hoping someone would hear her.

He let go, smiling handsomely. "Door's silenced."

"So?" She panted, still stalling. "Your plan is to kill me now and what? Be famous?"

"No." He paced as if waiting for something or someone.

"No?"

"No. My plan was to kill you when I sent that ring."

"And Snape?"

"That traitor practically handed the Dark Lord to Potter."

"If you're so brave why not go after Harry directly? He's in the castle."

"Two reasons, sweetheart." He got on his knees, one on either side of her straddling her, and leaned down into her face. "First, hurting you will hurt him more."

"Why not go after Ginny, then?" She shrank back from his handsome yet terrifying face. "You had access. Or is she helping you?"

He looked surprised. "Helping me? No. I told you. She's pure. Plus, they love you more. Both of them." His eyes crawled up and down the length of her body, making her fight the impulse to squirm. "So, I hurt you, I hurt them, teach all mudbloods a lesson."

His hand brushed the falling hair from her face. She snapped at him, trying to bite him, anything she could do. He laughed.

"And second?" She asked. Any minute now, someone would come. He had straightened, still on top of her, he was undoing his belt. "What's your second reason?"

He performed a spell that ripped her tights open. She heard it, felt the air hit her.

"Second, you haven't figured it out yet, Hermione? I thought you were brilliant." He clicked his teeth disapprovingly, then vanished her panties. She bit her lip, whimpering. Slowly, he leaned down. His lips next to her ear, he whispered. "Remember the light?" He kissed her neck, making the skin crawl. "That's you. You're lure. I do want to get Harry personally. And I bet I can lure him down here….with your screams."

He lifted the silencing spell on the door, his hands clutching around her ribs as he bit down hard on her earlobe. She refused to scream, biting her lip until it bled. He quit, surprised. He stared at her.

"Harry will beat you!" She yelled. She no longer wished her friends would walk in any minute. As bad as this was, and it was bad—no the worst—she would not want to be humiliated _and_ endanger her friends. She had to figure a way out herself. "If you want to hurt Harry, I thought you would just kill me."

"Oh, I'm not going to kill you. I'm not going to die for you." He laughed incredulous. His finger glided from her neck down her chest... "Remember that day down at Hagrid's? That's when I knew there was an easier way."

His hands tore her blouse open. His wand whisked it away. She stared down at her torso clad in just a black bra. Below that, behind him, she wore just her black skirt, her legs forced apart and unmovable.

"Unicorns prefer females," he said, cockily, sitting back to look at her exposed upper body. She wanted to cover up, but he held her bound wrists above her head. "But they only let virgins touch them."

He licked his lips, and her mouth fell open in horror. He adjusted his weight, fondling her breasts with one hand then running his hands down her body roughly. She tried to free her wrists, looking away. His hands were cold.

"Don't worry. You won't remember it; you certainly won't remember who did it." He assured her. "You'll wake up naked in here, a tad sore," With a swish of his wand the clothes he had taken –everything but her skirt and bra—were lit aflame. "Potter will rush in—or Weasley or Snape, I'm not picky— and he'll instinctively hurry to cover you with this robe," He nodded to the school robe draped on one of the chairs, "Protecting your ruined virtue." He pressed his lips on hers, hard. "And he'll be cursed, a faster working one than the ring. Won't kill him, probably, but neither of you will ever be the same."

He grabbed her hips roughly, yanking them up into his stiff midriff. She tried in vain to pull her feet from the floor, feeling the heat of him nearing her weakest spot. She could not even push her thighs together to stop him. She was completely exposed on the cold floor.

His eyes stayed on hers, his tiny curls falling into his face as he paused, about to force himself on her.

"Why the potion?" She gasped, trying to stall, to think.

"What?" he balked.

"Why did you slip us the potion?"

"What are you talking about, Granger?" He shook his curls, annoyed. "What potion?" He blinked.

The door opened and there he stood: pale face, grey eyes, blonde hair. Draco Malfoy.

* * *

A/N: Aahhh! I know, return of the cliffhanger. I'm the worst. haha. Okay, please, please review and I'll post the next chapter asap. Told you this would be fun. What did you think of graduation and Rex? See it coming? And what's Draco doing?

Yours,

Elsie


	19. Wink

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

* * *

A/N: I want to take minute to dedicate this chapter to just a few, _a few_, of the wonderful followers who have reviewed almost every chapter: C.F. Snape, Sassyluv, and Nuff. Don't worry. I've got more juicy chapters to dedicate later and lots more people I want to thank with a dedication. Thank you to all who read, followed, favorited or reviewed! I was amused by the number of people who demanded Rex get his butt kicked and thrilled by the theories.

Warning: language and awesome ness.

* * *

Chapter 19: Wink

* * *

"Malfoy?" Rex turned, puzzled but unconcerned. She took the opportunity to sling her tied hands as hard as she could across his face. Her knuckles stung with the force of the smack.

"Bitch!" Rex slapped her so hard her neck popped. One cheek burned wildly and the other was flat against the frigid stone floor.

Someone else spoke.

"Get. The fuck. Off of her." Malfoy was standing in the door, his wand out.

"What?" Rex asked, befuddled. He did not get the chance to ask anything further before he was sent flying across the room, crashing into the stacked chairs at the other end then the wall. His unconscious body fell to the floor with a thump.

The blonde tilted his head to one side. "Gave him a chance." Draco grimaced, looking down at her compromised position. He pocketed his wand and moved forward.

"Not the robe!" She was finally able to say. "It's cursed."

"Good to know." He closed the hand that had been reaching for it and knelt beside her instead. "Where's your wand?"

"He had it."

Silently, Malfoy summoned her wand, untying her hands as well. There were marks where the ropes had been. She rubbed them and accepted her wand, unsticking her feet from the floor in a couple tries. Draco stood, offering her a hand.

Once she was pulled up, she swooned.

"You alright?" He asked.

She cradled her head. "He knocked me out…hit me in the head with something."

"Your clothes?"

"He burned them."

Draco nodded and removed his cloak, a beautiful navy colored thing with a silver collar. Hesitant, she accepted. "How?"

"I found your distress signal on the way up to the celebration." He explained.

She raised her eyebrows.

"I was here to offer my congratulations to Potter on his new position. He did help me get mine, after all."

"Did he?" She asked.

"Don't act surprised, Granger, it was your idea." He drawled.

"Well," She bit her lip shyly, which she immediately regretted, wincing and tasting blood.

"You're bleeding." He observed, looking queasy.

"I noticed. We had better make sure he's secure." Malfoy disarmed him and Hermione tied him to a chair, magically. "Thank you, by the way," she said to the man behind her as she did so, "for saving me."

"Believe or not," he said coldly. "I do not take pleasure in that sort of—"

"No, I know. But you also don't like me. And I'm a mud—muggleborn."

"Well, as muggleborns go, you're not _so_ bad."

She grinned in spite of herself, still not feeling quite present. "And as snobby, purebloods go, right now you are my absolute favorite."

Whatever Draco's Malfoy's response was going to be, he was stopped from replying as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, McGonagall and Snape burst into the room.

"What's going on?" Harry demanded first, his eyes demanding.

"Get away from her, Malfoy!" Ron warned.

"Ron, no! Draco just saved me."

"Saved you?" The headmistress asked. "Miss Granger, what is going on? Are you alright?"

She bit her lip again.

"You're bleeding." Snape said at last. He took one step forward. Then, he pointedly looked her up and down. "Why are you wearing Mr. Malfoy's traveling cloak?"

"Rex wanted to hurt me, to teach muggleborns a lesson and get to Harry and Ron. Moody killed his mom, a pureblood."

"Hurt you?" Snape asked tensely. She stared at the floor.

"That boy had her tied up and stripped and was trying to force himself on her." Malfoy explained frankly. Hermione had told herself she would not blush but did so anyway.

"Thanks." She whispered sarcastically.

Ron and McGonagall gasped. Harry paled. Ginny covered her mouth with her hand. "Bastard." Neville cursed.

"Are you alright?" Snape took another step forward and stopped again, seeming to be forcing himself to remain very still.

She just nodded. She felt remarkably numb, just humiliated.

Harry pocketed his wand, moving forward in a few strides towards Malfoy. The blonde flinched, but Harry only extended his hand. Malfoy looked at it as if Harry had just tried to hand him a dead fish.

"I owe you thanks, Malfoy."

Hermione wanted to giggle. That felt strange too. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Finally, Malfoy accepted. "Actually, I was here to thank you."

"We're even." Harry assured him. "We're more than that." He gave the other young man a significant look.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Friends, if you want." Harry elaborated. Hermione swelled with pride.

"As touching as this is," Snape slowly drawled, as if uninterested. "May I have permission to escort Miss Granger to the hospital wing?"

"I don't need—"

"Save it." Three voices told her at once: Harry, Ron, and Snape.

"Of course," the headmistress agreed. "I'll deal with Mr. Forthright. We certainly have enough aurors on hand, I think."

Hermione ducked her head and followed his billowing robes, pausing a second to hug Draco Malfoy's neck. She was pretty sure his heart stopped, and just to be perfectly wicked, she kissed his cheek as well.

* * *

"Professor," she began the moment they were in the corridor. "I'd really rather not go to the hospital wing. It's all very humiliating and—"

He wheeled around to face her. "Stop." She had to or she would have walked right into him. "You're rubbing your head. Let me see."

She winced as he did so, murmuring a spell. "A little blood and a bump." He said. "How is your balance?"

"Alright, I think." His skepticism was patent. She conceded, "I stumbled a little when I stood up." She pulled Malfoy's cloak closer around her. The corridor was cold and most of her clothes were gone.

"What do you need?" He asked her earnestly. She looked around herself, tugging on the edges of the cloak. "Tell me what you need." He repeated.

She shifted from foot to foot. "I don't know. I don't want to go to the hospital wing." She decided.

"Then will you come with me?"

"Yes."

He nodded, turning to lead the way but stopping midway. "Shall I…do you need me to carry you?"

"No I'm fine."

"Miss Granger, no need to be modest. If you are…hurt."

"No," she shook her head. "He did not actually…"

"Lucky for him." He spat, spinning around and heading down to the dungeons. He moved slower, she thought, for her benefit.

* * *

They went directly to his rooms.

Once he carefully shut the door, he spoke seemingly to the wood. "I need to look at you."

"Okay. Can I sit?"

"Of course."

He approached her on the settee carefully, deliberating for a moment, then he kneeled before her, his eyes questioning as if to ask if it was okay. She nodded and extended her wrists. "He tied them."

Gently, he turned them over in his own, summoning a salve which he carefully applied. It stung a little, he knew, and though she made no response he blew lightly on the skin to ease the burn.

"Thank you."

"What else?" He asked softly. Her luminescent brown eyes grew a little teary, he noted with an internal wrenching, but she defiantly wiped them away. He reached up, his fingers on her chin, her lip, healing the spot there. She touched her fingers to it. "I bit it." She explained.

His fingers also grazed her cheek. It was bright red. He slid a little salve there on his thumb.

He waited, giving her time to list the rest of her injuries. "Just my…" Her voice failed as she lifted the sleeve of Malfoy's cloak to expose the little cuts and blooming bruise where he had dug his fingers into her fresh scar. This time, he took even more care, gently dripping an oily mixture into the spot. It had a strong smell, but not unpleasant, almost minty. He murmured something as he did so. He did not warn her that it stung a bit, and not expecting it, she winced.

His eyes looked up to hers, his own full of pain. Holding the extended arm, he put his lips close to the scar and lightly blew on it, easing the pain. Honestly, she had not seemed to feel much at all yet, adrenaline still pumping.

He waited.

"Oh, that's it really." She told him. "He didn't hurt me other than that. He hit me in the head to knock me out, bit my ear," She touched the tender spot. "He slapped me when I hit him. I bit my lip because he wanted me to—to,"

"It's okay. You don't have to—" But really, he did not want to know.

"He wanted me to scream. I wouldn't."

"You were strong." He told her, proudly. She smiled a little, though it was gone quickly.

"And, forgive me," he had to ask, looking at the carpet. "He..."

She drew a deep breath, staring at her hands as she answered. "He ripped of my shirt, my tights, my, my—"

"I understand."

"But Draco came in before he could…go any further. He kissed me, sort of, and he grabbed me." She unconsciously pulled Draco's robe closer, shuddering. "But no other injuries."

"Miss Granger, it is very, very important that if he did... violate you that you tell me, or someone, immediately so you may be given the proper healing potions. There are complications…"

"I understand." She looked him bravely in the eye. "I swear. I was very lucky."

He nodded, accepting her reply.

"He was behind the rings." She told him quickly. "It was revenge for his mother's death, against the muggleborn and the traitor, but he did not know anything about the potion."

He stood slowly. "Two different attacks."

"I felt like he had an accomplice, but he denied Ginny was a part of it."

"So you think that person might have been plotting too? Maybe nothing to do with him?"

"To ruin our lives." He tried not to feel stung at that.

"But who?"

She shrugged. That was enough talk about that, he surmised. "Is there anything that you need?" He asked her.

"Sir, I'd like to go take a bath."

He considered it. "You may have a bath, but I think given someone is lurking in the shadows still, you should, if you are willing, use my bathroom." She gapped at him. "However, if you are understandably uncomfortable, I will escort you to the third floor prefect's bathroom and stand guard outside. The former is much more…practical, but if you aren't—"

"No, no here is fine." She stood.

"Are you sure?"

The cloak slipped as she made for his bathroom door. A black bra and black skirt alone were visible. And bruises already dotting her fair skin. He felt anger surge through him. The flames leapt in the fireplace. The glass case holding the rose cracked down the side. She jumped.

He repaired the glass and summoned another vial, handing it to her. She took it with an inquisitive look. "In case you're bruised." He told her.

"Thank you." She looked at the carpet, probably ashamed knowing he had seen the bruises, and disappeared into his bathroom.

* * *

He could do nothing with himself while he waited. He tried pacing, then he went to his office to look for something to do. "How is she?" Potter asked from the chair across his desk. Behind him, Draco Malfoy stood.

"She's taking a bath." Potter nodded, running his hands through his messy black hair and exhaling.

"And Mr. Forthright?" Severus inquired.

"Gone."

"Gone?"

"Relax, I didn't kill him."

Draco looked down at Potter, then at the potions master. "He did come close."

The seated young man shot the blonde a look but said nothing to him. "I got a little out of hand." He admitted.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"I got him to come down here. McGonagall told me to." Malfoy explained.

"It was personal!"

"Indeed. I'm keeping her here." The potions master informed them.

"You're sleeping on the couch." Harry presumed.

"I won't be sleeping."

"You can't do this forever." Potter sighed.

"Obviously, but she needs to be safe tonight. That gives us twelve hours to figure this out."

"We're going to need another chair." Severus tilted his head at Potter's odd request, but conjured one. Draco looked confused, but sat. "Right." Harry continued. Severus took his own chair. "Ron, Neville and McGonagall are questioning Rex. He's giving us nothing on a partner."

"I suspected your girlfriend." Severus told him plainly.

"Ginny loves Hermione."

"Ginny has been influenced before." He reminded him.

Harry turned to Draco. "Have you heard anything?"

Draco scoffed. "I can't be seen to associate with anyone."

"You visit your father. Anything?"

He shook his head, expression dark.

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure. Rex worked on his own as far as I know. Shouldn't you check on her?"

"She's in the bath." Severus repeated.

"But she may have concussion." Harry noted.

"I'll leave you to it." He stood, realizing that Granger could hurt herself if she passed out in the bath.

Harry too got to his feet with haste, Draco copied him reluctantly. "I fail to see how I'm involved. You helped me, Potter. You don't own me."

"You can go." Harry told him. "I'm not saying you have to help. I just thought—"

"That I might be as tortured by guilt as you are?" The blonde spat.

Severus hesitated at his private door, unsure if a fight was about to result. Calmly, Harry said at last, "Maybe not _as_ tortured. And no. That's not why. I don't want to make the same mistakes our parent's generation did because this will happen again. Grudges, houses, blood feuds. My first day here, you offered me friendship. You are without friends now because you chose the wrong ones. I'm offering you some new ones."

"What a gang of misfits?" Malfoy's voice had its typical high pitch arrogance.

"Yeah. If you can do better, go ahead." He challenged. It took Malfoy aback for a moment. He seemed to consider it.

"Bloody hell, Potter." The blonde put a hand on his hip, toying with his pocketwatch chain and vest bottom. "What have I gotten myself into?" He looked at the floor. "Come on then, Potter." He spat with his usual loathing. "I'm to go cloak-less, I assume?" He complained, wrenching open the door.

"You look far less girly and ridiculous." Potter replied, stepping through the way.

"Ha ha, your majesty." Malfoy threw back sarcastically as the pair disappeared behind the door.

Severus shook his head. Hell hath frozen over indeed, he thought.

* * *

He knocked urgently. "Miss Granger?" He wrapped again, impatiently. "Miss Granger!"

Hearing no response, he cursed himself and unlocked the door. Hesitating a moment, for he may have to briefly see and maybe even lift her naked body, he swung it open. Miss Granger had to move to avoid the door.

"I'm sorry. I thought you might have fainted." He said quickly.

"I used your robe." She said shyly, squeezing her hair.

"That's fine. I would ask you to stay here this evening. I will, of course, not be sleeping. We know whoever it is has access to your private chambers and Potter will not be at home."

"You want me to sleep here." She repeated.

"If you can, I do."

She nodded. He stepped back from the bed, gesturing. "Please. You probably can rest safely now. You've been awake over an hour since you hit your head." With a swish of his wand, he dimmed the room, moving to his chair.

She had that look on her face, the one she always got when she was thinking very carefully.

"Penny for your thoughts." He said darkly.

"Aren't they worth more?" She teased. That was good, she was feeling well enough.

"Indeed." He stared into the fire.

"It's someone in the castle." She said aloud from his bed.

"Yes, we've established that many times." He tried to hold back the snap, impatient going over and over the same thing. "Someone who knew about the kiss and had access to your bedroom, which was Ginny Weasley."

"But Ginny would not have known about your potion and could not have gotten to it. Then there's the matter of the spell. How was it reversed?"

He rubbed his brow. "No idea."

"Reversed." She mumbled. "Reversed."

"Must you repeat everything over and over?" He snapped. "Or are you a slave to your thoughts that—"

She sat suddenly bolt upright in bed, gasping. He was on his feet in an instant. "Are you hurt?"

"I think I, yes that's…" She laughed. Actually laughed.

"Are you going mad?" He barked again.

"I think I may…that is, I have a theory. Would you test it with me?"

"Are you going to share it first?"

"I think it best not."

"There's a surprise."

"Would you perform the gentleman's spell again?" She asked him from under the black sheets, sitting up as she was.

"Your rooms are not secure," He said slowly, carefully.

"Return me to my bed, sir. Fall asleep in here yourself as quickly as you might. I think we will soon have an answer." Her face was bright with excitement. He could not say yes, of course. He stalled trying to think of an excuse, how to stop her from leaving. Then she asked, "Can you trust _me_ this time?"

He sighed, sitting on the very edge of the bed. "I give you one hour. Clear your mind and go bed as quickly as you can. I shall do the same. An alarm will sound in hour, and if you do not return to my door within minutes of that or send word, I will march straight into that tower and—"

"You have my word." She assured him.

"Very well." He agreed unhappily.

He performed the spell, and she disappeared. He was unhappy undressing and climbing into his bed, leaving on his pajama pants. It was a challenge clearing his mind of his rage at Forthright and his distress and annoyance with Granger.

* * *

It was he who had the misfortune of waking first this time, moments before his alarm was set to go off, which was his habit. He woke, threw off his covers, and made to begin pacing his room. But something stopped him. A soft sigh.

He turned and looked in horror to see Hermione Granger nestled safely in his bed, sleeping deeply. He canceled the alarm at once. She was sleeping so well, so peacefully. He had thought before that when she smiled, Granger looked more attractive than she usually did. He was wrong. Well, he was not entirely mistaken for she was prettier when she smiled, but she was _pristine_ at rest. Her features when relaxed were perfect. He shook it from his head.

"Miss Granger," He roused her. "Miss Granger."

She blinked up at him, her cheeks beginning to fill with a blush but then realization took over her features and she leapt up from the bed. "I was right! I was right!"

"Care to share?" He asked, standing as well.

"We have to confirm it, sir! Come on, we must go."

"Where?" His anger grew as he scrambled to look presentable so at least one of them would.

"To the kitchens!" She declared happily, eager at the door. How hard had that bastard hit her in the head?

He kept up with her scurrying to the Hogwarts kitchens in the dark, but he was fuming. Understandable considering he was trailing behind a gleeful student in a bathrobe, through the castle in the middle of the night, headed to the kitchens of all places.

"Miss Granger, my patience is gone!" He snapped at last.

"Sorry, sir. It's just when you said slave... it got me thinking. Remember how we scoffed at first about the chance someone was trying get us together? Well, I think that may be just the thing."

He nearly tripped over his feet.

"You see, I think someone was watching us since after the battle, someone in the castle. Someone who would have access to your stores and my room and can apparate anywhere they please!"

"An elf?" It was ludicrous.

"I was wrong before. I did eat that day! I went to the kitchens to grab a bite at lunch. It took a while to take effect."

"But _why _would they-?"

"Why depends very much on the elf, sir." She said, tickling the pear. "But I have my suspicions there as well." They entered the room and were greeted merrily by the little creatures she strove to save.

"Winky," She cornered one, its big ears drooping guiltily. "I think," she got to her knees before the little elf, "you have something to tell me."

The elf named Winky looked as though it may dart.

"Now, you will be entirely forgiven, so please, please, tell me... did you do something?" Hermione pleaded. Winky squirmed, her scrawny arms held in place by Miss Granger, her big eyes shifting hopelessly. "Go on, Winky, it's alright. Tell me. Now."

"I'll fetch some veritaserum." He said, tried of this foolery.

"No!" The elf yelped. "Winky only was wanting to help Miss. You was a friend of Dobby's and Dobby was a friend of Winky."

"Yes, and I am a friend to you. Now tell me everything." She comforted the small weeping creature, coaxing her onto a small stool. The other elves watched from a few feet off, curious, worried. They whispered. He shot them a reproachful look and listened to the hiccup-y confession. "Winky saw Miss and the hero Snape after the battle, so sad and—l"

"Yes, yes," He noticed Granger cut her off. "And what did you decide to do about it?"

"I was refilling potion master's store and, and I-I took the potion."

"How did you hear of it?" He interjected.

She shook her big elf head. "Winky only summoned a love potion by my elf magic. Winky gave it to master Snape in his food, then to Miss in hers. Winky thought it wasn't working, but then Winky overheard it had because eves was bringing meals to you together in your private rooms..."

"And you, did you tell the papers?" She inquired.

When Winky nodded, his sympathy died. "Why you insolent, little-"

"They should not have talked about Miss in that way!" Winky shouted. Her vehement defense of Miss Granger stopped him.

"Winky, did you do anything else to bring us together? Any more potion?"

"No, Miss. Only...when Miss was hurt..."

"You didn't." Miss Granger barely breathed.

The elf burst into sobs. "Winky knew master Snape would keep Miss safe!"

"And tonight?" He demanded through clenched teeth. Granger's own hand was covering her shocked mouth, so she was unable to ask.

"Winky is sorry, Miss. Miss was attacked! Winky had to do something! Dobby would have!"

"Yes," granger laughed through her tears, patting the elf consolingly. "Dobby would have meddled. But Winky, you had us frightened, and someone could have gotten hurt in the confusion. You can't just force people to love each other."

"But Winky did not, Miss, even Winky knows that. WInky was only trying to make Miss and master Snape see- "

"That's quite enough." She cut off Winky. "Now this is _very_ important: did you tell anyone else?"

"No, Miss."

She held the elf by her tiny shoulder a moment then burst into tears, pulling the shaky thing into a hug. "Oh you silly, silly creature! Oh, thank goodness. Bless you, you terrible, terrible, fool."

"That is enough, Miss Granger." He pulled back her shoulder gently. "I think you will drive the poor foolish thing mad."

"Yes, you're right." She wiped her face on his bathrobe. "I suppose we had better tell the headmistress we're in danger no longer."

"Let's not wake her tonight…and not in this state."

She looked down at herself still in his bathrobe. "Oh yes." She laughed.

"However, we may need to recall the cavalry."

She gave him a questioning look. "We'll need to use my floo." He told her. If he could wait for an explanation, she could as well.

* * *

"Are you sure you still want to free these conniving creatures and put us all at their meddling mercy?" Snape asked from behind his glass of firewhiskey.

Hermione smiled. Harry laughed aloud, his chair falling down on all fours with a clack in the Grimmauld Place kitchen. Ron choked on his own laughter, looking at Snape as if he had grown three heads.

"You know, I'm not surprised at all." Harry told her. "You always do figure it out first."

"Well yeah," Ron told him. "She's bloody brilliant."

"I'm just so relieved." She sighed happily. "It was nothing nefarious."

"Hermione, I'm sorry we didn't figure it out and protect you." Ron said seriously to the table. He gulped. "Snape was right. We should have been paying more attention to you; we're your best friends. Hell, we're _aurors_ and we didn't see it coming. If Malfoy hadn't been there..."

She shuddered, setting down her hot chocolate. Harry licked a marshmallow from his. She smiled at him.

"Well as necessary as this has been," Snape stood. "I had best return to the castle. I have exams to prepare."

She stood as well.

"You're welcome to sleep here, Hermione."

"Thanks, Harry, but I'd like to spend one of my last few nights in the castle." His face grew suddenly sad. "I'm sorry." She apologized.

"It's okay. I just miss it. It was my only home for so long."

"Well, you know my opinion on the matter." Snape commented. Hermione and Ron exchanged a puzzled look.

"What opinion?" Ron asked.

"Nothing." Harry brushed it off. "Should have been kicked out long ago."

"Yeah, probably." Ron admitted.

"Goodnight you two." She beamed at her friends.

"Night."

"Night 'Mione."

"Goodnight, professor." Harry shook his hand. Snape just nodded.

"Sir." Ron acknowledge. "Sorry about the nose."

He arched a black eyebrow. "Pardonable." He drawled.

When they arrived, Hermione stepped from the fireplace in Snape's office feeling as if she'd returned from a long journey and found her home exactly how she left, only it felt different because things besides _it_ had changed. There was a comfortableness between them that had not been there before, but a fresh awkwardness too.

"Goodnight professor." She made a quick exit.

"Goodnight, Miss Granger." She hated the finality in his tone as she closed his office door. She wouldn't be returning to his room for her safety or spending evenings there with work or lessons, sharing meals. That part had ended.

But they were friends now, so that would continue. She was on good terms with Harry and Ron, Ginny was not conspiring to kill her, and even Draco Malfoy did not want her tortured. Things had vastly improved.

And as soon as she got Ginny calmed down enough to leave her alone until morning, Hermione Granger slept more soundly than she had in years.

* * *

A/N: Now, yes I realize this could end here. But that's no fun. Things may have been solved... for now, but what about Hermione and Severus? Oh, don't worry. There is much more to come; in fact, another one of my favorite chapters is next. I do hope you like it. Sorry if this one had some errors. I feel like I missed some. Thanks again to ALL of you reading and especially for favs and reviews. They make my day and they make me write.

Yours,

Elsie


	20. Warm

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

* * *

A/N: Thanks so much for your response! This next chapter is dedicated to: Dutchgirl101, Lunajen323, Suzie Qtip, Lady of Tenn, and Irmorena for their _amazing_ support. So many more to thank soon in no particular order!

Several of you were very close to figuring out who was behind the potion, though many were shocked. I am glad. To be fair, it was _possible_ to figure out from the beginning. The only person who had access to Snape's food and Hermione (bath, food, or otherwise) and could apparate in the castle were house elves. We know they meddle, from Dobby and Kreacher, whereas friends of the pair would likely have too much consideration and/or foresight to meddle to that level. I mentioned the elves briefly nearly every chapter as a reminder that Hermione visited Winky and that Hermione cared for Snape _at_ the castle. One of you even noticed the titles were all begun with a "W". This chapter was even called "wink", a hint ;) Don't feel bad though as Hermione and Snape had so many enemies, just months after the war, they were busy with other theories, especially after they assumed Rex's attack was part of the same thing.

As for Rex's background, motive, and possible accomplices, without giving much away I will just say... we haven't seen the last of him, and there's much more plot to come as I've just finished writing chapter 28!

And now for something completely different...

* * *

Chapter 20: Warm

* * *

"Ready, Hermione?" The blonde girl asked, sitting down with her quill and notepad.

Hermione nodded at Luna Lovegood and sipped her tea.

"Start wherever you want." Luna smiled.

The brunette nibbled a gingersnap, thinking very hard of where to begin her first interview. She had been through it all at least one hundred times. There was the battle to discuss, but one needed to go back before that, but how far? To the beginning, she supposed.

"I love Harry." She blurted. "He's one of my very best friends and has been since we were eleven. I'd been crying the bathroom—I used to get picked on terribly, you see—and the boys had heard there was a troll loose in the building. Ron and Harry came to save me; it was remarkably foolish, but the three of us—those two being stubbornly brave and me being clever—managed to knock the troll out. The three of us have been friends since that Halloween, but Harry and I have never been more than friends. Everyone knows this."

"So those rumors were…" The other woman gave her a chance to explain.

"Just that—rumors only, and not even very good ones at that." Hermione remarked, dipping a snap into her tea. Luna nodded, making a note. Her wide eyes looked back up expectantly.

"You were pictured hugging him." Luna prompted, knowing the audience would want to know.

Hermione agreed. "More than once. Harry's like my brother. During the tournament, he was only fourteen, and I knew he had not put his name in the goblet of fire, but on top of risking his life, at least half the school was against him, thinking he had somehow cheated Dumbledore's age line." She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of it. "That doesn't even begin to describe our anxiousness of trying to figure out who had put his name in and why. I was very worried about Harry, but as usual he blew away our expectations."

"You _have_ dated Ron Weasley though."

"Yes, of course. I had a crush on Ron for years. We're good friends now, and I love his entire family. They've really looked out for me. Ron is probably my only serious relationship, truthfully."

"What about the other champion? Victor Krum?"

"I did date Victor Krum, and while I don't know much about quiddtich, I do know he was a marvelously sweet young man the brief time I knew him. At first, we were all quite edgy around each other when the visitors came from abroad for the Tri Wizard tournament, but I had a fantastic time with him at Yule Ball, and Fleur Delacour, another champion, is now a member of the Weasley family. Even Harry and Cedric bonded by the end of it, agreeing to take the cup together."

She was quiet a moment, but added. "Cedric was handsome and popular, but unlike some who are, he was nice about it, nice to Harry even though he was competition, and always a good sport. We all remember him like that."

"Your first fight was the next year, after Riddle returned?"

"That's right. In the Department of Mysteries. Er, you were there. I was injured, but a number of us fought Death Eaters who had lured Harry to the prophecy. The Order arrived to save us, and we lost one member in the process, killed at the hand of his cousin and the same person who tortured me."

"So you were tortured?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Well," She found it was easier to talk about now, where before when it had never been said her mouth could not form the words. She still had to push them out, but at least they were there. "Psychologically, it was the worst. They were very practiced, really treated it as an art, enjoyed it, you know. They knew how to make you feel alone, scared, panicked.

"But other than that, the pain was horrible. I tried not to scream in case Ron and Harry could hear me, but I couldn't help it. They used the torture curse, but they also used their hands. I have scars…" She rubbed her arm subconsciously.

"And you were saved?" Luna prodded patiently.

Hermione nodded. "By an elf named Dobby." It was strange repeating this all to Luna. She had been there for all of it—the battles, Malfoy Manor, Shell Cottage.

Hermione wanted to ask her friend what happened to her in her months in the Manor…but she did not, continuing about Dobby. "He was so brave and such a good friend. Harry helped free him in his second year and Dobby was grateful. He saved all of us, dying in the process. It was horribly sad. Since before that, once I found house elves were working unpaid at Hogwarts, I was working to inform them of their choices."

Luna was nodding in agreement, so she continued.

"Some elves want freedom," She hopped up on her metaphorical soap box. "And some are horribly mistreated by their masters. House elves have feelings and are capable of dreams, learning, and acts of valor. Sometimes, they've lived so long with a tradition they do not think outside of it.

"Riddle believed everyone not human was sub human. We know better. Are Veela's less beautiful than humans? Are Goblin's less cunning? Of course not, we are different. I hope that witches and wizards will come to realize that while Riddle wanted to enslave muggles and other magical beings, and we are no better if we continue to live off or tolerate the enslavement of a race of people for our own luxury just because they have been conditioned to say they want that or know nothing outside of it."

"And what of the elves at Hogwarts?"

"Many of them continue working there when given the option, for free no less. I only think they all deserve the option."

"Now on the subject of Hogwarts, you fought in both battles at Hogwarts?"

"I did."

"What were they like?"

"I cannot put it into words. I did not enjoy fighting, unlike some. I did not feel brave. We lost a lot of friends, family. I don't like anything about it."

"Is that why you do not want to become an auror with your friends?"

"Partly. I also wanted to continue learning. I'm rather bookish, and I love school and learning. There was still so much to learn, so many amazing experts at the school to learn from."

"Like Professor Snape."

"He is brilliant. And I have great respect for all my teachers, Sprout, McGonagall, Hagrid, Flitwick. Hogwarts was a poor place to choose to fight on Riddle's part."

"And you were attacked at Hogwarts recently?"

"By Rex Forthright."

"The student you dated?"

"We were not a couple. Mr. Forthright was friendly to me and claimed to want more, but it was rouse. He attacked me and will soon face trial for it."

"Did he try to kill you?"

"His aim was to hurt me and erase my memory, thereby hurting my friends and disgracing muggle borns, but I was saved by a friend."

"Who saved you?"

"Draco Malfoy."

"The son of Death Eater Lucuis Malfoy?"

"Draco is certainly a Malfoy, but he is no death eater."

For a moment, the ravenclaw just wrote a note, tapping her notepad with a quill. Then, Luna revealed, "You know…he helped me a little, when I was in his house."

Hermione was gobsmacked. "He-he did?"

Luna nodded. "Not much, mind you. He was very afraid. But he was not…cruel. He told them I was mad like my father and would give them nothing." She said as if she were discussing the weather. "I was apparently just to be held to make my father cooperate. Draco had some elves bring in a few things. I haven't had a chance to thank him." She suddenly returned to the interview before Hermione could determine what she thought about that new development.

"What do you plan to do in a few months when you graduate?"

Hermione crossed and uncrossed her legs. She sipped her tea, fingering the funny earrings her friend had made her for Christmas. She had absolutely no idea how to answer that.

"Do I, er, do I have to answer that one, Luna?"

"Of course not." She said vaguely. "Any comments on the rumor that Rex Forthright had opened the Chamber of Secrets and was building an army of Basilisks?" The writer asked nonchalantly.

Hermione started. "Er, no."

"And, may I ask, have you managed to transform into an animagus that is a unicorn?"

She opened her mouth at once to deny it but realized Hagrid might not be exactly following every law keeping an orphaned unicorn. "No comment." She grinned wickedly.

* * *

"I have good news," Severus smiled slightly, closing his office door behind him.

"Good news?" Granger said as she lit the fire under her cauldron. "That doesn't sound like you."

He smirked. "Shall I keep it from you then? Spare you the shock?"

"Not at all. Please share." She dusted her hands, checking over again the ingredients he had laid out; they were making more of his trauma potion for the hospital, as per healer request.

"It looks as though our research has been accepted." He announced quietly.

"_Our_ research?" She turned to him, frowning. He returned it. "It's your work; I just helped."

"You did far more." He took a step forward. "Longbottom would never have agreed to the tests if I approached him."

"You never would have approached him."

"Fair enough. So you see, it wasn't my work alone, and I would not take sole credit. You sent it out, re-sent it, practically forced me to finish it, even let me test it on you. You deserve to have your name on it. I wasn't be generous."

"No," Her eyes welled, but she laughed a little, making an insincere face. "That doesn't sound like you."

The corner of his mouth curled upwards somewhat as he handed her the paper. She gasped excitedly, bouncing on her heels as she spoke. "This says they tried it in South Africa… and it worked! They've tried it with several St. Mungo's patients… and they are ready to print it for review!"

He rolled his eyes. "I have read the letter." He drawled as if bored. He was anything but.

"This is fantastic!" And then, quite unexpectedly, Severus Snape found that he had lost his touch.

He was a tad disappointed in himself. He had always thought that being a thin, shy little boy he had been had grown into a strong and intimidating man. He was frightening to his students, he presumed, and properly so. It was often he had made a hand quiver or a small first year jump; he'd even triggered his fair share of outbursts and been personally responsible for at least one full scale meltdown. Even Albus had insisted he dial it back a notch after those exams.

But since then, he had grown too lax. He had grown so, dare he say it, approachable that in her excitement Hermione Granger threw her arms around his neck, nearly coming completely off the ground and, on her tiptoes, hugged him.

She did not even pull away at once, realizing her mistake or the impropriety of it. He let his right arm barely touch her back, resting at the small so she did not stumble back. She let him go, still standing close enough that he could smell her mane of hair, see her eyes beaming.

He fought a real smile. "Well, I'm glad you're pleased." He said lamely. "We had better finish these potions."

She put her hands on her hips, outer robes abandoned to work easier. Her sleeves were rolled up, exposing smooth white arms and her slight wrists. She tied back her messy hair, exhaling at the desk that was her workstation.

"I just cannot do it properly."

"You do it fine." He admitted.

"Not as good as you." She shook her head. "You're doing something different, one of your little instinctive things, I know you are. Could I watch you again?" She chewed her lip as she asked, which meant she was afraid he'd say no or worse, admonish her for even asking.

He sighed, not annoyed in the least to brew his masterpiece for her, to teach her. He was her teacher after all. His special techniques were usually his own secret, but she had earned his confidence, was a true apprentice who had through her dedication to their project earned a right to learn everything he had to offer. The work might have been his idea, his expertise, but equal amounts of work had led to his final success.

Equal. In many ways, she was his equal. Perhaps that was why her continued presence annoyed him less than others. She was polite; Granger did not chatter. She was probably smarter than he, though he was begrudged to admit it, and nearly as brave. She had stunned him time and time again with her selflessness, but it went beyond impressing him. Now it seemed to him she spent so much time unappreciated next to Potter and was so used to caring for her friends and sacrificing for the cause that she seemed to think taking care of herself was selfish.

Perhaps sometime in the future, when she was no longer his student, he would stop feeling the unrelenting need to protect her, he thought with another sigh.

In a month, she would pass all her exams stunningly and be his colleague and intellectual equal. But she would be gone from the castle. He supposed Granger being so tenaciously friendly would visit occasionally, write. They might have occasion to work together again in person should she have the time. He would not visit, if he could help it. Was not the visiting type.

For some reason, this fact did not bring him joy. In fact, he found he was little disappointed. It was pathetic, he supposed, that his friend was now none other than Hermione Granger. But why was it pathetic? She had grown into a mature, young lady. She was intelligent as ever, but no longer overeager. She was still proudly emotional, but confident and less flustered.

Her hair was by no means tame, but it was golden and soft brown hues woven together, thick and wavy but less frizzy and always shining. It smelled sweetly no matter how many hours they were cooped up in in the lab, even when tiny beads of sweat appeared on the back of her neck and around the edges of her forehead. In fact, more than once he had wanted to ask if it was some spell that kept her fresh since his own hair was often plagued by the fumes.

Her face was more feminine with age, he observed out of the corner of his eyes as he worked. Her body had developed, even he had occasion to note. Soft skin and curves peeked out from her school uniform, outgrown. And she carried herself differently, moved differently, yet she had not noticed her own change, modest as ever.

He shook his head to clear it. He was human, only observing what anyone could see. It was the damn potion that had caused the dream, months ago. The potion was the only reason that had ever found out what kissing her was like, how she looked in just her bathrobe.

He would never allow himself to think of Miss Granger like that. Even if he could have, even if he wanted to, it would be in vain. Miss Granger would never see him as more than a friend and had quite enough of male attentions to get along with, so he would satisfy himself with that.

What more would he want, anyway, from such an idealist little muggleborn, someone so young and so different from he… yet not so different.

* * *

"How do you do it?" She blew another tuff of hair from her face. Her fingers were wet with juice, but the rogue hair had brushed her nose, and it itched.

She was struggling with the beans. He managed to get vast amounts of juice from them while she sliced away are got scarcely anything. He was smashing them with the blade of the knife, but when she tried it, the bean slipped away, darting around her tray then flying off across the room.

She exhaled exasperated. "I have," she told him in a huff, "underestimated the subtle science and exact art that is potion making."

He raised an eyebrow, either disturbed or impressed with her memory. She looked bashfully back down at her table, counting out more beans. She thought she heard a deep chuckle. Observing his gentle, automatic technique again, she tried not to notice his forearm muscles and sinews rippling under their ivory surface. The serpent there appeared to be wriggling.

Another bean flew out from under the knife this time whacking her right in the eye. "Ouch!" She grabbed it, stabbing her knife into the tray.

"Let me see." He touched her wrists, his deep voice rumbling startlingly close so soon after her yell. She stubbornly tried to resist, embarrassed, but her forced her arms apart and looked down at her blinking eye. The pain was sharp and did not dissipate.

He raised his wand and performed an unknown spell. She did not even flinch. "Better?"

She nodded. "Thanks." She said quietly.

She tried to ignore the width of the chest in front of her, how she knew it to be shaped underneath, smooth and solid, bits of silky black hair down its center. She swallowed, looking down.

"You are one of the most prone to injury—" He began.

"Can you show me?" She asked, returning to her station. She waited.

Her hair stood on end as she felt him standing inches behind her. After a moment, his hands appeared from behind her and took her hands in his. Patiently, he showed her how he gradually applied pressure to the beans, pinning them with the tip of the blade, wriggling it a little as she pushed further down. At first, he was guiding her wrists with his fingers then her fingers. By the third bean, he was all but doing the work himself, seeming to forget she was there –except for the fact she had yet to hear him draw or release and breath.

She fought the instinct to lean back against him, his warmth, but as he reached across the table for a sponge, his body inevitably touched hers. He was so warm and something about his shape that made her feel more ... secure. She wanted to rest her head there.

It had been like this for two weeks, if she were honest. They talked here and there, intellectually or exchanging jibes. Their hands or bodies brushed one another occasionally as they worked. They would stare at one another, catching the other looking for some unknown reason, then avoid eye contact completely. When they were finished working, she would leave, bidding him good evening. No meals, no excitement or plotting, and yet she kept finding herself wondering if she had been slipped more potion—even questioned Winky again—so irrational was her desire to be physically close to him, to just look at him. It still seemed so impossible the elf was behind it, a plan naively orchestrated and devilishly executed, that the real threat was... Rex. She still was not sure he worked alone; his mother's death and blood purest ideas still seemed incomplete. But even more befuddling were her thoughts about Snape-their prevalence and nature. She did not understand it, nor did she care to, for if she had those thoughts, he would know. He would look at her in horror for her fleeting fantasy and send her away forever.

And that thought bothered her.

She did not even realize that when her hand had slipped from his grip and slid the smooth length down his bare arm. She could not believe how warm it was and how soft it could be when it looked like it was carved marble. Quite unbidden, she watched as her fingers traced the skin again. Truly, she had not noticed she was actually doing that until she was drawing little circles with her fingertips, following the lines of his muscles, sinews, along the outline of his mark. His chest was a slight pressure and warmth on her back until he spoke. Then, the rumble shuddered through her.

"What are you doing?" He asked at last. It was not an angry hiss, but soft and inquisitive. She was glad he could not see her face. It was either ashen or red, she was sure. What had she been doing? She was fondling his forearms!

"Sorry." She lifted her fingers as if he might bite her—after all, he might. But she could not be rude and she felt a surge of confidence. She was not going to lie. Why should she be so ashamed? So, as matter-of-factly as she could, she told him, "I was just admiring you."

"Admiring your greasy, old potions master?" He growled quietly. It was a good thing he was in a position to catch her because her knees wanted to give – either from mortification at what she had said or the way his voice resounded through her chest.

"You're neither greasy nor old." She informed him bluntly.

At that, she too was speechless. Perhaps it was this boldness that pushed her further or perhaps it was a faint hope, a hope she could not even consciously consider, that he had yet to move a muscle let alone pull away. She breathed, closing her eyes as she slid a finger down his forearm. "You're beautiful."

She knew it was coming. The moment was unavoidable, better now than months later. Best to get the inevitable rejection out of the way. The moment the words escaped her, he jerked out of her grasp. They were no longer touching. Her whole body protested. He wanted to be closer to him.

"You are my student." He reminded her, warningly.

For a moment, neither spoke. But slowly, perceptive Hermione Granger realized not what he had said, an inescapable fact, but what he had _not_ said. He did not say, for instance, 'get away from me'.

He did not say, 'Miss Granger, get a hold of yourself!'

He did not say, 'I'm sorry if I misled you, but I have absolutely no interest in—'

"I know," she said quietly but firmly, staring ahead at the wall. The stony view gave her bravery that turning to face him would utterly erase. For then, she could pretend this conversation was not really happening. "For thirty-nine more days."

"Thirty-nine days?" He repeated, incredulous… but not repulsed.

"I know." She turned, hands behind her on the edge of the table, and looked up at him. She was a Gryffindor, damnit. "And I'd never want you to dishonor your post." She assured him.

"But?" His tone was dangerous again.

But what indeed. She had not the slightest idea. What was she saying? What did she want other than to check out the man as he worked, earn his friendship, and admire his skill? There was something about his presence that made her body crave… something. Being near him quelled something inside her that had just begun to ache, and she wanted to be closer to him. That was all. She did not understand it beyond that, and had she felt that something that made her so… vulnerable for anyone else, it might frighten her.

However unstable she might be, Snape would be careful not to hurt her. So she said it as best as she could: "But I need you."

"Don't say that." He nearly winced, looking away hopelessly. She wished she had not said it, clutching her arms to herself and looking down at her black boots.

"Why not?" She asked, swallowing. "It's true. I'm not asking…I don't know—"

He sighed, his voice deeper but almost inaudible, as he admitted, looking somewhere slightly above her. "If you must, say you _want_ me not that you _need_ me."

"Why?" She blinked.

"Because I could never deny you anything you needed." He answered, clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. She stood there, suddenly very aware of where she was and what had just happened. Something had changed as palpably as if Hogwarts had spun around and nestled down in a new position.

"I suppose," he sighed impatiently. "As a colleague, I could kiss your cheek."

He did.

She searched his face for signs he was teasing her. His face gave nothing away, stoic as ever. Both returned to their work, silently agreeing not to mention it again. But she couldn't help but smile at the potion, still feeling his lips on her cheek. Would he do that again when she graduated? In thirty nine days...

* * *

A/N: Ahhhh! I loved writing that. Did you enjoy their moment? Don't worry, I won't make you wait thirty-nine days. Next chapter, Hogwarts graduation! Do take a moment to review and share your thoughts.

Yours,

Elsie


	21. When

Disclaimer: Please See previous chapters.

* * *

A/N: The response to the last chapter was thrilling: record number of reviews AND I heard lots of "swooning" and some "my favorite"s. I admit, that 'need' line was one of my favorites to write. Thanks again to all the new readers and favs and as always those beautiful little gems that are reviews!  
Taking the opportunity to send some special thanks to: L'alchimiste de Castille, Evranu, Worrywart, and Emperor's Sister. Gah! I still haven't fit in everyone, but I want to make it special, so it won't be a single long list. I'm trying to pick a chapter specially for certain loyal reviewers. Still, I appreciate each and every review, even if you can't always think of something to say and even if it's just a word.

Now for the longest chapter yet...

* * *

Chapter 21: When

* * *

"Miss Granger seems to be getting a number of job offers." Professor McGonagall commented, watching her star pupil from her seat at the staff table during lunch. The young woman ate an English muffin with marmalade and sipped her tea as she read over a stack of mail.

"Indeed." Snape sipped his own tea.

"No doubt thanks in part to your allowing her to work with you in your research."

"She did the work." He told her fairly.

"But you also gave her the potion, did you not? And some occlumency?" She raised a knowing eyebrow. Snape scowled.

"She was suffering. I offered to try. It helped me as much as it did her."

"Really, Severus! No one would actually believe these silly, romance rumors. Why do you try deny you at least like the girl? You work well together. Not afraid of Mr. Weasley still, are you?" She jibbed.

Severus was not amused. "Not at all. I am not denying we have become… friendly, but she is my student and I try to maintain a certain distance. It would not be appropriate. I have already been accused—"

"That was not your fault." She said at once.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Nevertheless." He said.

"Well," She smirked as she sipped from her goblet. "You will not be able to feign being a heartless beast for much longer when you have her visiting you after her graduation." He wondered if she would be so happy if he knew anything about exactly _how_ friendly he and Miss Granger had gotten at times.

"Miss Granger will have much more important things to do after graduation than visit her old potions teacher." He said with a little more bitterness than he intended. "She will be busy with her own life, as she should be. As you said, she had countless job offers, and she'll no doubt become a workaholic."

"I'm sure she will still have time for you, Severus. You have been a good friend and mentor to her."

He made no comment, but gave a noncommittal grunt.

* * *

He was walking the grounds, rethinking Granger's unusually forward behavior. Her comment of thirty-nine days: what did she expect at the end of that time?

It was becoming increasingly difficult not to look at her like a woman during that time, a fact for which he tortured and berated himself constantly. He knew she was no longer a child. They worked together well, Minerva was right, and they had fallen into comfortable silences together. He tried telling himself he was protective of all his students, but _that_ was not why he had trembled when they had come upon her stripped and injured. He had destroyed his room just recalling it, wanted to wring that boy's neck personally and watch the light leave his eyes.

Anyone could see Weasley was wrong for her and he fancied he had a bad feeling about Rex Forthright, but had he really? It seemed every man was wrong for Hermione. Was it because he was secretly thinking they were all wrong for her? But who was he…

That wicked little Gryffindor had admired his arms, called them impressive, whatever _that_ meant. She had touched him too, not in the caring dutiful way she did when he was recovering, but curious and tenderly. She had said his arms were _beautiful_. She had admitted she still wanted to kiss him. She felt safe with him, and he supposed the way he had kissed her and manhandled her left her curious at this time in her life...

So she felt she needed him, she had said. But that was bad, wasn't it, for her to feel she _needed_ him for something? He should make her feel stronger, more independent not weakened. He sighed, arms resting on the fence post as he watch the growing unicorn frolic. Hagrid's heavy footfalls pulled Severus from his musings.

"Alright there?" Hagrid asked.

Severus stood upright and commented thoughtfully, "She's incredible, isn't she?"

"Professor! I didn't know you admired unicorns." The half giant exclaimed, clapping him on the back.

"I was speaking of her namesake." He muttered darkly.

"Oh." Hagrid seemed conflicted for a moment, fiddling with some dirt on his fingers and looking out at the grounds. "Almost time to let her go, I'm afraid." The bigger man sighed.

"Excuse me?" He turned to face him.

"Well, I'll have to see if the herd will take her back. Course it's best if they do but," The man was talking about reintroducing the beast, Severus realized, and worse he was beginning to get _weepy_ about it. "I'll miss her somethin' terrible! And with Dumbledore and now 'Arry and soon 'Ermione gone too… it's just too much." He blubbered, pulling out an ugly handkerchief. "It's just too much."

Snape grimaced. "Well, there are many new children, more than one I'll bet who could use a friend or who likes animals as much as you."

Hagrid balked at him. "Y-you know, yer right, professor. That's just what Dumbledore would say. Whenever you lose someone, there's more life out there, more who need ya'. That's the way the world works, old makes way fer new, jus' not always when you want.

"'ahgrid, he'd say, you can be lonely, but it won't bring 'em back, and it won't mean you miss 'em any more than if added someone new to yer life. Hearts don't have a fixed amount of love to give, Dumbledore used to say, they grow to make room around the spaces. Smart man, Dumbledore."

"Indeed." Severus commented, thinking on the words he too had been told so many time by the former headmaster. For the first time, it sounded less like gibberish and sentimentality and more like … something else.

He turned and strode towards the castle.

Granger seemed to understand this concept, filling the gaps in her life where people had been lost –people who were irreplaceable – by expanding her already tender heart. But how long could one go, he wondered, letting people in and losing them before one was more riddled with holes than they could stand? What happened when the emptiness outnumbered the people left to care for, he wondered as he strode down to the dungeons.

Was he guilty then as Granger had accused, of pushing her away when she got too close? If he continued this habit, it may be indeed time to let her go. Granger did not often force her presence on others. If he did not let her know she was welcome, that he considered her his friend, she may not return.

He walked directly to his private chambers, pouring a little drink and settling into what had been his favorite chair for some years.

Was he being a coward as the headmistress implied, so afraid of his attraction he was overcompensating by acting unconcerned? Or was he being sensible? He could lose his position, his reputation. But did he want to teach any longer? It was not his strong suit. It was no longer necessary, and it was, as Hagrid pointed out, difficult to be there without Dumbledore yet with so many memories….

There was simply no point in wondering about it any longer. He would have to talk to her. They were adults, after all. He would just sit her down and ask her. He would not cross the line, just talk.

For the time being, he removed the stupid book from his shelf, rolling his eyes even he continued through it, failing to see how it was enlightening or how it hinted at the meaning behind the rose Albus had given him. Yet again, he read the words, "Once upon a time, there was a little boy and little girl…" He sighed.

* * *

Hermione Granger sipped her tea seated on the green and cream-colored settee where she had been laid when she broke her ankle, where she had stood in her bathrobe, dripping, asking Snape to kiss her. It was same settee on which she sat during many meals. She laid not a foot from here nearly dying, burning alive in an invisible fire, choking from a curse. He had saved her, of course. She had faced him from this very seat, fire crackling behind her, as he examined her after Rex attacked her.

Strange this room had been here like this her entire first six years at Hogwarts, yet she, like most students, had never seen it. Now as she looked around she thought how much she was going to miss this room.

Severus Snape had invited her for an after exams lunch. Her head twinged with a headache, but she sipped tea anyway, worrying over her transfiguration results.

"Stop worrying." He told her. "You'll do fine."

She offered him an unconvinced smile and took a sandwich, not really hungry.

"My intent is asking you here," he shifted, still very stiff. "Is to ask you what your plans are after graduation."

She stared at him. The way he began his sentence did not match the way he ended it. Even he sounded dissatisfied with it.

"Well, er, Harry has been asking me that as well, and professor McGonagall." She set down her cup. "I'm not sure. I've been offered the chance to understudy Magical Law Enforcement at the ministry. I could see my friends a bit more, and it's a flattering offer. I don't want to offend him by turning it down."

"The very fact you are considering that tells me it's not what you want."

She sighed. "I don't know that it's _not_ what I want."

"The first job you get outside of school need not be the perfect job for you forever. It can be an experiment, a useful experience, a stepping stone. On the other hand, if you choose wrong you can allow yourself to get trapped in field that you do not want or where you can't go any further, effectively wasting your time." He offered his advice, then sat in silence. She considered it. Then, she sighed again, retrieving her cup.

"Yes well, I'm just not sure. I've looked into possibly going to a muggle University. McGonagall has prepared some papers for me, in case."

"Really? To study what?"

"Can't really decide about that either. I'd like to study lots of things, but it's all rather expensive just for the sake of learning."

"You know, Miss Granger, just because you are intelligent does not mean you are obligated to take on an ambitious position. You had already accomplished more than most, so you have nothing to prove."

"What are you getting at?"

"Picture yourself getting up and ready for work. You're smiling. You feel proud about the work you're going to be doing. The place you are headed, you feel as comfortable as in your own home, maybe more so." She closed her eyes, picturing herself wrapped her scarf around her neck, grabbing an umbrella and walking out into the grey day.

"You walk there. What do you see on your way?"

"Er, streets?"

"Good. Full?"

"Well, it's very early, but there are lots of buildings. I'm on the pavement. There's some traffic…"

"Now you've arrived. The familiar scent of your comfortable place surrounds you." She was taking off her scarf in her mind's eye. "You say good morning to the first person you see. What sort of person are they?" He asked.

"A calm looking person, in tweed." She felt herself smirking. "Looking up from their work. Friendily."

"Is it loud, busy? Are there many people there?"

"No. Not yet. It's quiet. There are—" She bit her lip.

"Yes?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. It's just my imagination, you know."

"That's the point." He said blandly. "What is it? What there?"

"Books." She opened her mind. "Books don't hurl curses. Or gossip."

"There you have it."

"Have what? It just looked like a book shop." She laughed.

"Books, Miss Granger. Speaking of," He reached forward and took a bun. She noted it was the kind with strawberry jam. "I wanted to ask if you intend to or will have the time to continue working with me on the possible text? It would not be a job to speak of but might continue to advance you."

"Of course." She sat up straighter.

"I won't have you overwhelming yourself. You may only if you have the time." He told her firmly. She nodded. "Good. I should very much like your help."

"You would?"

"Naturally."

She looked surprised down at her lap. Was it so natural?

The man was still pretending the moment had not happened, the kiss on her cheek, the way he had said he could deny her nothing she needed…did he mean because he felt some sort of paternal protection? She was running out of time, and he had yet to make his position clear. She tried to be patient, not eager to be rejected.

"We should make a plan, hence my curiosity as to your schedule."

"Yes, sir. Shall we continue Saturdays?"

"I daresay you may want some of your Saturday evenings free."

"Oh. Well, er,"

"Shall we say every other then?"

"Oh well, yes that should work."

"Good then. Glad we worked that out."

"Perhaps I'll see you more often than that?" He eyes snapped to her. She cleared her throat, suddenly very self-conscious. "I mean, I'll be staying with Harry, for a while. You will drop by other than work, won't you?"

He tilted his head back, expression unreadable. "If you like."

"Well, we would." She told him, but her head really was throbbing and she had promised some people some answers. "I'm sorry, I have to go."

"Of course." He stood quickly. "I'm sure you have lots to do. Before you go," He went to the desk by his bed again and retrieved something that piqued her interest. "I wanted to give this to you now. I imagine at graduation you will be surrounded by well-wishers. I may not be able to reach you."

He turned and found her standing directly behind him. The man lowered a small bag into her hands.

"Thank you." She stared at it more than a little surprised. She looked up to ask if she could open it then. He indicated that she could.

There was a small black box and inside her Gryffindor ring Rex had sent her, the ruby crystal clear.

"Just returning it really, but it is safe now."

"Thank you." She had to touch it, admiring it, but did not dare put it on.

"The curse was different, by the way."

"What was it?"

"Drowning."

She shuddered. "I don't know what's worse."

"Will you have to testify?"

"If Rex does not plead guilty I may." She nodded staring into the red at the rippling gold.

"You will be fine." He reassured her, even though she had not asked. She smiled vaguely. He cleared his throat. "There's something else."

The bag was small, but she stuck her hand back in and pulled out an object that should not have fit inside, an undetectable extension charm, just as she was fond of; she removed a book. Or it seemed like a book. Upon further examination, she found it was actually an organized series of lists—a book list. A book to keep track of books—to read, on certain subjects, etc.

"Perfect." She laughed lightly.

"And you'll also find a couple copies of your letter of recommendation in there." He noted.

It was her turn to snap her head up and look at him.

"You did not think I'd not give you a recommendation?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but could not. Instead, she threw her arms around him again. She had grown rather attached to the man and somewhat attracted to him. His own inclinations remained a mystery, so she worried their friendship might dwindle after she left. That and leaving her home of seven years… made the goodbye all that more difficult.

His hand tentatively held her waist, fitting around the side of it. "Have I upset you?" He said into her hair, pretending to be annoyed. She looked up, finding his face much closer than she expected. His eyes widened a little at that.

"It's just hard to say goodbye." She smiled sadly at him.

He let go of her waist, but did not step away. "H—Miss Granger," He said deliberately. This time, she was pressed against his chest and the rumble ran all the way through her. She swallowed as he looked into her eyes. "This is not goodbye. If after you leave Hogwarts," he seemed to struggle. "There is anything you want from me, you need only ask. Now that I need not protect the integrity of my grading it is possible I may be able to…be available to you in ways I have not been."

She could not believe her ears. What was he saying? She frowned, staring directly ahead at his chest. "So you're saying, like, if I still wanted to kiss you—"

He stepped back, his voice firm and distant again. "Miss Granger, this is not an appropriate conversation to have with your potions master."

"Yes, sir." She took her things, not daring to look at him. "Thank you again, for everything."

"Congratulations, Miss Granger." He said cordially and she shut the door on the rooms she may never see again.

* * *

'If I still wanted to kiss you…' If. IF? What was she playing at?

Severus Snape laid in bed awake, wondering if he would more or social pariah than he was before the war if he were to kiss Hermione Granger or slightly less of one. He could hear Minerva's scandalized gasp already, he thought sourly. Mr. Weasley would almost undoubtedly punch him again. He did not even know that he wanted to kiss the woman!

After hours of trying to fall asleep, he convinced himself that the moment had inevitably came to a head. It began when he kissed the hell out of her. She had been too shocked to panic and the kiss itself was not…terrible. Then she had barged in, sopping wet and hardly dressed, begging him to kiss her. He'd kissed her cheek.

She had admitted to a psychosomatic effect—she believed herself to still be functioning under the potion when she wanted him to kiss her again. She admired his arms as they worked together, a sexual curiosity emerging within the young woman, he reasoned. She'd needed something from him she could not even articulate. He was a man she trusted, so she wanted it from him. They were both lonely and she pretty young woman. It was a natural physical reaction, he told himself, to look at her—an adult— this way, as long as he did not act on it.

But he had kissed her cheek again.

Pulling away may have further built the tension. They had been so close, her body growing more mature and more attractive every day. They brushed against each other just enough to tease him into wondering what more would be like. At the same time her connection with him grew so did her fascination with him, feeding that delusional desire which would completely dissipate with one awkward date. He sighed aloud.

A kiss was inevitable, it seemed, due to their past riling, thanks to the potion, and both their imaginations. Eventually, if her curiosity persisted he would kiss her and it would be over: the urge, the tension, the romanticized forbidden idea.

'Kiss me…' Fragments of the damned dream, brought about the exoticness of their first forbidden kiss, flashed through his mind. Her small wrists in his hand, his lips pressing against hers, needy. 'I need you.' He heard her.

"Damn, Granger!" He cursed, throwing off his covers and going for a cold shower.

* * *

Hogwarts graduation was a jovial affair. Harry and Ron, her family, were there cheering her on as she accepted her diploma. McGonagall hugged her tightly. "So proud of you." The woman whispered.

"Thank you!" A tearful Hermione managed before moving to make room for the others. Ginny was last. Everyone stood, thundering applause; even Snape was clapping loudly. Smiling broadly, she tossed up her pointed hat with the others. Her heart rose with it—she had done it—and fell with it back to earth: it was over.

Overhead crackled then exploded the fireworks, George smirking in the crowd. There was laughter and cheering, professors pretending to be annoyed.

Snape was right; it was nearly impossible to get through the crowds to her. Harry was insistent, given the recent threat, she collect her things and head straight for the apparition point, going to Grimmauld Place. He'd taken to acting like her personal bodyguard. Ron did the same for his sister, helping her with the trunks.

"Ready?" Harry asked, heaving it into the fireplace to floo instead thanks to McGonagall. She looked wistfully around the room. "You'll be back." He said quietly. "I know you will."

She wiped a tear and followed him into the flames.

* * *

The moment they arrived lights, explosions, and shouts filled the air. Hermione had her wand trained on Mr. Weasley's surprised face when the room became clear. She put it away at once. Crookshanks scampered off with an angry cry.

"Congratulations!" They all shouted.

"Harry?" She blinked. Harry looked pleased with himself.

"Surprise." He shrugged.

Stepping out of the fireplace, she entered the crowd. Some Order members were there, most of the people she should have graduated with, and the Weasleys. Ginny was holding a glass, a celebratory hat on her head. The girl stepped forward and popped one on Hermione's head too, making them both laugh. Everyone was there. Well, practically everyone.

"Thank you for coming!" She hugged Neville, who was nearest.

"Of course. Wouldn't miss it."

"It was our idea—" Harry grinned, looking tired from work, but happier than he had in a while. "Ron, George, and mine, but we needed Luna to plan it."

"And decorate it." Ron admitted sheepishly. Hermione noted the streamers around the room had various animals on them and everything was black and gold.

"And basically she did everything." George appeared, his arm draped around his brother. "But it was our idea." He kissed Hermione's cheek.

"Thank you, all of you. I'll just go thank Luna." They nodded. She worked her way through the crowd, accepting their congratulations and a glass of strange punch that changed color as she held it. She eyed George apprehensively. He winked and raised his glass to her from across the room, drinking it. Hermione tried it, finding it pleasantly sweet and tangy, with the warm burn of alcohol after. Her glass was red where George's had been lime green. Luna's, she noticed as she reached the girl standing on her own, was a light purple.

"Hello, Hermione." Luna smiled. "Enjoying your party?"

"I am. Luna, these decorations are amazing. Thank you." They were certainly interesting. She was not sure why she chose all the animals…

"Oh, it's nothing. I like to help."

"I wanted to talk to you about something else as well."

Luna waited for her to explain.

"Well, I'm going to continue helping Snape with something, but I was thinking, I would like to do some work with you at _the Quibbler_."

The former Ravenclaw did not hide her surprise.

Hermione quickly explained. "You're very nice and very bright, one of the few people I can trust, so while everything there might not be my… cup of tea, the idea of doing a column or two like you offered, helping with some editing and production, well, it sounds like a fantastic experience. I'm sure there's tons I could learn from you, and we might just balance each other out—you being so, well, intuitive and me being so logical."

"I'd really like that, Hermione." Luna said genuinely.

"Me too. Oh, but I might be doing some part time study as well. I've gotten into a muggle program."

"That's wonderful."

"You think?"

"Of course." She looked at her, puzzled. "It won't be a problem. You're going to be very busy. You'll be staying here?"

"Yes, with Harry. You really should come visit often. We'd all like that."

Luna smiled again, looking up at the spinning paper lanterns lighting the room. "Me too."

"Hermione," Kingsley offered her hand.

"Thank you so much for coming, Minister."

"Please now, Kingsley." He insisted. "I'm still waiting on your answer. Will you be joining us?"

"Yes, Hermione," Mr. Weasley clapped her shoulder, smiling. "Be seeing you at work now?"

"I'm honored to be asked, but I'm just not sure which direction to head in yet, and until I do I don't think I'd be much of an asset. I hope I'll be applying in the future when I know what department I'd fit with."

He nodded in understanding. "I see. If you change your mind, don't hesitate to come to me."

"I hope to be coming to you, minister." She eyed Luna who was staring off into space, but listening she knew. Hermione gently tugged the other girl over. "Luna and I will be working on her publication. And I'd really like to be available to clarify any ministry statements _the Prophet_ …misinterprets."

"Any ally in the press, ladies, would be very good."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

"Very good indeed." Mr. Weasley agreed.

"We'll be in touch." The Minister nodded. "I need to go."

"Of course, minister."

"Arthur. Miss Granger. Miss Lovegood."

"Minister."

The party was fun, even she had to admit. There was not a face there she did not want to see. She even had a couple of drinks, delicious as they were. Her face was even warmer than the room, everything gleaming. She was not as interested in dancing as Ginny was or Neville for that matter.

"How are your parents?" She asked him, munching on some of the puffs Luna brought.

"I never thought I'd say this, but…worse."

"What?" She panicked.

"In a good way," he tried awkwardly. "See, they couldn't remember anything really, before. The potion is bringing them back a little. Some of the healers are occlumens, so they help with the memories. I've contacted a muggle psychiatrist."

"How?"

"He believes they usually stay at a private facility."

"And it's helping?"

"They won't be themselves, but they might be less…"

"I hope so."

"The point is, it worked. It, you know, reached them. Good aren't they?" Neville happily tried a puff. "Luna made them."

"They are great. I didn't even know she could cook."

"Yeah I guess all those years cooking for her dad..."

"Oi! You had these SPINACH CHEESE PUFFS?" Ron shouted excitedly.

"I'm right here, Ronald." Hermione laughed.

"They are soooooooooooo good." He proceeded to shove several in his mouth. "'arry! I got four."

"Sweet."

She rolled her eyes. Her friends were ridiculous, but that felt pretty good right them, ridiculousness. Most people had gone home, save the DA group and a couple new aurors. In fact, everything felt pretty good. Her face was tight from smiling, and she felt elated, like the whole room floated a little.

And then, in the corner, Ginny was kissing Harry, hard. He seemed surprised, then kissed her back enthusiastically. She moved up and down; the crowd cheering and jeering was exciting her. Harry blushed. Ron gagged.

Hermione looked away and slipped out the door into the silence of the hall, going downstairs for some water. The little black dress she'd had under her graduation robes reached halfway down her thigh, her black heels, short and skinny, matching the small dangling earrings. The dress was fitting and low cut but then black lace went up to her neck and shoulders to retain her modesty. Her hair was twisted up, a few strands falling about her face, curling a bit with sweat, but most of her make up was still intact; she had to hand it to Ginny, as she caught sight of her reflection in the china cabinet glass, that smokey eyes trick really did work wonders.

Even George had said she looked hot, much to the chagrin of his younger brother. But Hermione found herself uninterested. And not because of Rex's attack, she realized the moment she saw Ginny kissing Harry. She was only interested in kissing one person. The thought of it made it hard to swallow, but she already missed Snape.

What if the man avoided her, continued to pretend like nothing happened between them? The thought both infuriated her and scared her. But, she assured herself, he had basically said that after graduation …well he had not said he was interested, but he said he could at least, well, answer her.

She walked out to get some air, clear her head. Before she knew it, she had apparated to Hogsmeade. She was not even sure if the professor would still be at the castle when she found herself knocking on his door.

"Sir," She said the moment it opened. She tried to think of a lie. This was really happening. Breathe, she told herself, breathe.

"Miss Granger." His features flashed with concern. "Is something wrong?"

"No, no." She shook her head, bit her lip. She let go, standing up straight. She refused to be nervous. "You said to see you again when I graduated."

"Indeed." He said carefully, crossing his arms. He was still in his black robes.

"I want you." She blurted. It was instinctual, thinking of the night he'd kissed her. Maybe she should have said need… She wanted to cover her mouth, but she did not. She thought of obliterating his memory, but did not. All she could do was stand rooted to the spot and wait for his reply.

"Excuse me?"

* * *

A/N: Well really though, how could I not pause there? Not to worry, it was just a pause. Next up: Hermione has to answer that question. Gulp. Please, please do take a second to leave a review. Spinach cheese puffs.

Yours,

Elsie


	22. Wench

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

* * *

A/N: You are probably tired of reading this, but thank you. I want to offer a special thank you this time to some of the first people who first started reviewing: mpat12, notwritten, Lunabeegood, and HollowRain8587, the latter of which was the very first review-the only one. When this started, there was only ONE review and I thought: well, I guess no one else likes that idea...Now, wow. You are fantabulous readers, and I have so many more of you to thank.

* * *

Chapter 22: Wench

* * *

_"__I want you." She blurted. It was instinctual, thinking of the night he'd kissed her. Maybe she should have said need… She wanted to cover her mouth, but she did not. She thought of obliterating his memory, but did not. All she could do was stand rooted to the spot and wait for his reply. _

_"__Excuse me?"_

Well, shit.

He did not look happy. She had been rejected and humiliated before. At least they were alone and there was no one to see her cringe. She swallowed; it took more effort than it should have. There was no getting out of it, so she tried to make her voice more affirmative when she repeated, "I want you."

"What exactly do you mean?" He asked painfully slowly.

"You know." She looked him in the eyes despite the fact that his cold orbs and the long walk were making her her legs jittery.

"Humor me." His deep voice drawled. Damn those vibrations.

Taking a breath, she sucked in her Gryffindor courage and pulled up her chin. Maybe it was some kinky tell-me-what-you-want-me-to-do-to you thing. "I want you…all of you." She said. "I want you to – to take me."

Mercifully, he spoke right away. "Miss Granger," he paused. "Miss Granger," Making a face constricted with effort, he slowly continued. "You do not seem the type of lady to appear on the doorstep of a man what you … _want_ and tell him as much so frankly without invitation or requiring anything in return."

He might have easily have slapped her in the face.

His voice was polite as he added: "I can conclude only that you are in an altered state either by potion, in which case I can help you, or by alcohol, in which case I cannot."

"I—I had a few at my graduation party but—"

"Surely, you do not think me the type of man to treat women with so little respect." He was not scolding her, she realized. His face was unusually expressive, his voice silky. "Certainly you would not _want_ such a man that would simply carry you to his bedroom, undress you, lie you down on his bed, and take you, as you put it, for an evening's entertainment."

She made to protest in her defense, as he was making her out to be some sort of tart. But she was easily silenced by his raised hand and closed eyes. She had no right to protest anyway having felt a burn rush through her body at the words 'undress you, lie you down on my bed, and…'

"Let me clarify," he said, opening his eyes. "Were I less of a man or you a less respectable young lady I might very well do such a thing at this precise moment," He paused. And she stopped breathing.

"But as it is, I'm afraid I have to decline your…request…at this time."

"I understand." She heard her voice in the distance.

His long fingers stroked her cheek. "Enjoy your party." He disappeared behind his door in a flash of black robes, tossing behind him the words, "Goodnight, Miss Granger."

* * *

At this time. He had said, 'at this time'.

Hermione re-entered Grimmauld Place and took the stairs up to her bedroom, pulling off her shoes and dress and collapsing onto her bed. She stared up into the black ceiling and smiled, touching her cheek.

When she woke in the morning, she rose before everyone else and got ready. It was not hard to do since Harry and Ron slept in late. School would not start for months, but she still had her job with Luna to get together. They should have talked more the night before. And sitting at her dresser, Hermione thought she heard the other woman's voice. She stepped into the hall and heard the soft, rhythmic notes clearer. Down one landing to the other bathroom, she found the door half open, the light on, and someone else was coughing.

"It's alright, Harry." Luna almost cooed softly. "Let's get you up."

"Harry!" Hermione barged inside to see Luna pulling up his sweating form from his spot on the floor by the toilet.

"Our Harry just had a bit too much last night." Luna explained as he leaned on her, nearly pushing her into the tub.

Hermione bit back her comments and nodded, helping him back to his room. "Wait, no." Harry said.

"Shh, Harry." She told him so he wouldn't wake Ronald.

"I –I want to sleep in Sirius' room." He blurted. She stared at him.

"Why?" She begged, not wanting him to torture himself.

His eyes searched for a moment, then he said, "Privacy."

Hermione glanced at Luna who kept her eyes on Harry, "Where is it?" The blonde asked. Harry nodded in its direction. The three moved him in there, dumping him on the bed. Hermione pulled back the sheets magically and cleaned him with a spell.

"I'll get some water." Luna said quietly, leaving the room.

"Lay on your side, Harry." Hermione rubbed him arm, tucking him in without getting any protests in return. He was shaking slightly, bumps raised on his skin.

Luna was already back with the glass of water and pitcher, cooled. "Here you are, Harry." She said matter-of-factly.

Harry looked up at her. "What do you think it was?" He murmured.

Hermione scrunched her face in confusion, watching Luna's reaction. There was none, except that she brushed his messy hair from sticking to his forehead and forced him to take the glass. "Just the other side," she said naturally.

He drank his water. "Sorry, girls." He gave them a shy smile. "I'm fine. Really. Just nightmares."

"Call me if you need anything." Hermione told him firmly. He nodded, getting comfortable.

Hermione shut the door behind them and whispered, "I'm just going to grab him a change of clothes."

She crept into his room and tried to tip toe around the first bed through the dark, funny smelling room. Only when she had pulled some shorts and t-shirt from a drawer did she hear the faint ruffling of covers, a muffled groan behind her. Instinctively, she turned towards Ron's bed and saw an unusually _large_ mass. Ron snored and yet there was another, softer sound. A small foot fell out from under the covers.

Hermione gave a small gasp, covering her mouth hand fled the room as silently as possible. That's why Harry had not wanted to return to his room. Ron had...company.

"You alright?" Luna asked when Hermione joined her in the hall again, perceptively for someone who seemed to be somewhere else.

Hermione nodded twice in quick succession, wiping away the tear from her eye. "What was he asking about when he asked, 'what do you think it was', Luna?" She whispered as the two went down the stairs to the kitchen.

"The voices." Luna replied.

"Voices?" She asked, alarmed.

"Beyond the veil. He dreams he can hear them, but can't make out what they are saying. He can't pass through it, even when it blows aside as he sees someone he knows."

"Someone dead?" Hermione asked plainly.

Luna nodded once, examining the curtain that hid Mrs. Black's painting. "Voldemort's voice keeps saying to him, 'But you're the boy who _lives_, Harry.'"

Hermione shuddered, wondering a little why Harry told Luna about the nightmares. She supposed the other girl was around more than her lately. Luna seemed unbothered by the melancholy, and Harry likely did not want Hermione to worry. Either way, she was surprised to find it did not bother her.

"Snape's potion doesn't work on them because they aren't memories, just fears." Luna explained.

Hermione sighed, unsure what to do and began magically brewing tea as they entered. "I think I'll make a little breakfast." Luna announced.

"The boys loved your cooking. The spinach puffs were quite good."

"Would you like something?"

"Just toast, thanks."

"Harry likes omelets." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "I made them once for dinner." Of course she did.

"Eggs?" Luna asked. Hermione nodded absentmindedly.

Moments later, a lovely poached egg on toast appeared before her. She smiled, setting down her copy of _The Quibbler_. "Thanks. I wasn't wrong about having a lot to learn from you." She complimented. "I've actually messed up eggs _and_ toast." She admitted. Luna just smiled politely. "So this comes out … monthly?" She asked about the magazine.

"Just about. Whenever we get enough material. Sometimes, like with Harry's interview, a prompt issue is key." Hermione nodded.

"You're still, er, looking into Crumple Horned Snortstacks?"

"Yes, indeed." She nodded enthusiastically. "I think I'm really onto something…"

"Well," Hermione all but cut her off, "I'm sure Harry can give you a list of the death eaters the ministry is offering a reward for. We could do a piece listing their crimes, what to do to safely anonymously give information."

"Could we leave the victim's names out of it?"

"Of course."

Luna seemed pleased. "I'm just going to take this to Harry. There's more in case Ron wants some when he comes down." Hermione nodded, biting into her breakfast. She would not think about Ron. She would not think about Ron in bed. She would not think about Ron in bed with that girl.

_Where was Ginny when you needed her?_

A few minutes after Luna's footsteps disappeared upstairs, footsteps approached the door again. Hermione turned to say something about the naturalist articles being a strong point and exclusive post-war interviews alone would sell copies. But it wasn't Luna.

Ron stretched his arms sleepily, yawning without covering his mouth like he always did. For a moment, he looked sort of cute, but when he slowly blinked open his eyes, he was staring at Hermione in surprise. "Hermione!"

"Good morning, Ronald." She shook her head, returning to her reading.

"W-what are you doing here?" He rubbed his arms nervously.

"I live here now, Ron." She reminded him tersely.

"Yeah. Right."

At that moment, another joined them: the blonde Auror, May. She was wearing Ron's shirt like a very short dress. Hermione forced her eyes on her paper.

"Ron?" She asked as she entered. "Oh, hi, Hermione."

Hermione did not have to look up to see Ron blushing. She could sense it. She turned the page of her magazine, lifting her eyebrows in response.

"Alright." The girl said slowly. "_Awkward_." Hermione blew out a puff of air as the blonde pranced by in Ron's shirt. It smelled like him.

At that moment, Luna re-entered. She sat down next to Hermione.

"Did you make this, Hermione?" May asked, liking jam off her finger as put it on her toast. Ron gulped audibly. He had not moved from behind Hermione.

"No." Hermione smiled tightly. "Luna is the chef around here."

"Oh. You're Lovegood? The owner of _The Quibbler_?"

"Yes." Hermione nearly hissed through her teeth, daring the girl to disparage the paper.

Ron seemed to sense the tension. "Er, what you got there, May?"

"Breakfast. Want some?"

Ron scratched his head looking from Luna and Hermione to May.

"What?" May asked, snapping off another bite of toast. "Problem?"

"You know we're not together, right?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah." May replied, shaking her head. "Of course. Why?"

"Oh, alright." Hermione feigned indifference. "I just thought you only went for it if they were taken."

"Hermione!" Ron declared in surprise.

Ginny appeared in the fireplace. "Ginny!" Hermione shouted happily.

"May?" Ginny turned to the scarily clad girl in her boyfriend's kitchen and pulled out her wand.

"Ginny!" Ron yelped, trying to explain.

"Harry!" The last voice was Luna, urging the man of the house, as it were, to take action as he entered. Harry disarmed his girlfriend.

"Ron!" He shouted angrily.

Hermione tried to stifle a giggle at the chaos before her. Ron and Harry balked at her.

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently, hand on hip. "What is going on here?"

Harry glanced nervously at Hermione.

She explained, saving him the uncomfortableness. "It's alright, Ginny. Ron was in bed with May this morning, and Harry was very much alone. She's now wearing Ronald's clothes, prancing around the kitchen half-naked. I think I've caught you up." She tucked in to her breakfast.

Ginny gawked at her brother. "Ron, how could you? Hermione lives here."

"I, er—" To his credit, Ron seemed properly humiliated.

Hermione shook her head dismissively. "Really, Ginny. We broke up months ago. Ron lived here first. I can't expect him to just not have people over for me."

No one said anything. "Luna, perhaps we could take Harry in the library and discuss that article?"

Luna followed, so did Harry. When Ginny walked in, she was cooling down. "May's gone. Sorry, Harry, but she was flaunting it in front of Hermione, and considering her past…"

Harry cut her off. "It's fine. I don't want her here. Auror's just brought her."

"Ron's mad at me." Ginny said, sitting. "I told him she went from Harry to him easily. Sorry, am I interrupting?"

"I think we got everything we need." Luna stood. "I should probably get back home."

"You can stay here, Luna." Harry told her.

"No, it's alright. I haven't been to the house in a while. Thanks for having me."

"No problem. Any time." He offered in earnest. "Sirius would want this to be the hang out place for friends."

She smiled at him, taking her leave.

"So you're working with Luna on _The Quibbler_ now?"

"For now, yes." Hermione answered him.

Ginny nodded. "Harry, can I talk to you for a moment?"

"I'll leave you two alone. I need to go out and get some things." Hermione stood at once. She did not miss Ginny's grateful look.

* * *

She did not need to do anything, so she did something she had not done in years. She took the muggle tube and visited the British Museum. Staring at the mummies, she wondered if years from now her remains would be dug up and stared at by people who could only guess what her life had been. Did these people, so carefully preserved surrounded by riches, ever think they would cease to be remembered? If everyone knew their names when they were etched on their sarcophagus, now no living soul could guess. Whatever pain befell them, whatever darkness and torture touched them, there was no trace of it, no way to tell them from the other bones. Whatever order they died in, they rested together then.

Maybe death counted more than life. She was not sure what that meant, but somehow, given everything that had happened, it was a comforting thought.

After the museum, she walked for a while, looking at the city. She found she had walked all the way to the Leaky Cauldron. For a moment, she stood and stared at the sign, then entered. No one noticed her at first, so she ducked and headed straight for the entrance to Diagon Alley.

The stores were re-opening the chirps coming from the shop housing owls and smells of the apothecary told her. She walked past the new Olivander's and eyed Flourish and Blotts hungrily. Inside, the little bell tinkled above her, and she took a deep breath of the smell of books. She scanned the shelves, reminding herself of her dwindling funds. She put back the fat volume she had wanted, bumping into a short man shelving books.

"Oh, sorry." Hermione apologized.

"Oh no, it's my—" He stopped, staring up at her face like he was watching fireworks. "Miss Granger," He grinned broadly, shaking her hand and not letting go. "Miss Granger! So good to see you back now that we're re-opened."

"Thank you." Hermione said politely, quite sure he would never have recognized her without the final battle hoopla.

"Finding nothing to your liking?" He examined, concerned.

"Oh no, too much actually." She laughed. He looked puzzled. "I always find more books than I can buy." She explained.

The man shook his head. "No, no, no. You take whatever you want, Miss."

"No I couldn't!"

"I haven't forgotten, you know?" He said, mounting the ladder to look for the volume she had just replaced. "I have not forgotten that without your sacrifice this shop would still be sitting here, windows gone, deserted. And I haven't forgotten how much time and money you've spent in here in your school days." He winked. "Was it this one?"

"Mr. Welling, I could not."

"Nonsense." He said happily, pulling it out and looking at the spine over his little glasses. "Nonsense." He shoved it into her hands, coming back down the ladder. "I've read too," He grunted a little as he bent his knees coming off the ladder. Then he was looking up at her. "I've read what you've been doing." He pointed a hairy, little finger at her. "Ohh," he chuckled, putting his hands politely behind his back. "Your research with that Snape fellow, brilliant they are saying. Brilliant."

"He is." She said, hearing the pride in her own voice.

"Well, as I said, love, you will have whatever you need." He moved on among the shelves, down a couple small steps. A sudden thought ran through her mind and she stopped him.

"Mr. Welling?"

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

She stepped closer, so they would not be overheard. "I wonder…you wouldn't be in need of anyone to help, would you?"

"My dear?"

Nervously, she explained. "Well, it's just. I do not start my next study for a few months, and I would love to learn a bit more about—"

He shook his round head, "You want a job?"

"Well, I'm still doing research on the weekend and working a little with—well, I suppose it would be part…"

He stepped forward, wringing her hand again. "Miss Granger, it would be an honor."

"Are you sure?" She breathed relieved. "You have room?"

He nodded quite happily. "For you, my dear," He laughed. "Most certainly." She smiled, shaking his stiff hand too. "Most certainly."

"Then, I'm at your service, Sir. When and where shall I begin?"

* * *

For the next hour, she followed the little man through the maze of shelves still being restocked. He explained the sections, though she was already familiar with the old layout. Noticing the stares and whispers, he showed her how to work the till. She checked out a couple customers for practice, the store traffic being sparse. One stared at her the whole time, the other asked her to sign something.

"I'm sorry?" She bit her lip.

"Your autograph…on this _Quibbler_?"

"Sure." She did so, ignoring the burstings of the excited pre teen.

"Is your animagus really a unicorn?" The girl asked.

Hermione smiled at her, then happily moved to the back to the store to learn some of that work. It was a nerdy haven, the scent of books engulfing her as she set to work organizing, categorizing, and alphabetizing in the silence, the distant tinkle of the bell the only sound. When she did emerge, Mr. Welling insisting she return and finish the next day, she found there was long line of people with hands full and eyes eager.

Mr. Welling looked a tad uncomfortable. "All these people need to be check out?" She asked him. He shook his head. That's when she saw it: dozens of her own face staring back at her from the cover of _The Quibbler. _They wanted her autograph. She had spent so much time in Hogwarts, she had been sheltered from much of this, Harry and Ron used to it.

She sighed. It was getting late and the line was out the door. "Right." She said, setting her bag on the counter. The crowd edged forward. "Right. I'll be here Monday through Thursday." She announced. "And I'll be happy to sign something for you if you are making a purchase." Mr. Welling could not seem to believe his ears. She smiled at him. "Good evening, Mr. Welling. Thanks again."

She had to push her way out and hurried from the street into the then crowded Leaky Cauldron. She was getting hungry, but not hungry enough to stick around. She found a spot and apparated close to the house. Nearby, there was a Sainsbury's, so she made a quick stop at the grocery. Since she had another part time job, she wanted to at least contribute something: corn flakes, milk, eggs, jam, and bread. She grabbed some canned soup and some pasta, bananas, fresh veggies, and canned sauce as well. Biscuits, sausages, and orange juice made it into her cart before she checked out. Thankfully, she was able to lighten the bags when no one could see.

Single bag in tow, she marched happily to Grimmauld Place, taking slight precautions before entering. She was smiling when she swung open the door to the kitchen with her hip, but not for long.

"Where were you?" Harry demanded, uncharacteristically angry. Ron too stood behind him, looking worried.

She was surprised before she could be outraged. Harry was hugging her before she could shout at him. "What's going on?"

"Someone was attacked. By a Death Eater."

* * *

A/N: Another cliffhanger. Opps! I hope you can forgive me. I'd love to hear what you thought of his response, the kitchen chaos, and Hermione's new job. Until next time...

Yours,

Elsie


	23. Wine

Disclaimer: See previous chapters, please.

* * *

A/N: I know this up-date was not as fast as some of mine... I went to Harry Potter World!

I want to dedicate this very special chapter to everyone who has reviewed as a Guest. You don't even have an account (or aren't logged in) and you still take the time review. Thanks so much! Special acknowledgement/dedication also goes to IND520, Liz Merryweather, and Saloirmoonserenity99 for their consistent enthusiasm! (Still more people to thank and chapters to come...). Love reading all your feedback and character insight.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 23: Wine

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_"Where were you?" Harry demanded, uncharacteristically angry. Ron too stood behind, looking worried._

_She was surprised before she could be outraged. Harry was hugging her before she could shout at him. "What's going on?"_

_"Someone was attacked. By a Death Eater."_

"What? Who?"

"You should sit down." Harry told her.

She put down her bag but fixed her hands on her hips.

"Hermione," Ron dropped his to his sides, his voice worried. "You left this morning without saying where you were going. We couldn't send you a patronus in case you were in public…with muggles. It's late now." He glanced at the clock.

"I had no idea. I didn't know where I was going, and it's not dark yet…"

"We were about to declare you missing. It's been almost twelve hours. I better let the others know you're alright." Harry told her, his arms crossed. She was torn between pride in his maturity and disdain for his bossiness. She was a grown woman, after all, and could take care of herself, but he had a right to be worried.

"Severus," Harry backed up as the door swung open again, but not in time. The door hit him in the face with a whack.

Snape's dark eyes went from Harry to Hermione, filled with relief, then darted back. "You could have let me know!" He snapped at Harry.

"I was just coming to; she just walked in!" Harry objected, covering his mouth. Blood trickled through his fingers. Ron healed it before she could with a silent flick of his wand. She was more than mildly impressed.

"Who was attacked?" She felt her blood cool. "Was it Ginny?"

Ron shook his head.

"Luna?" She wanted to sit.

Harry shook his head. He exchanged a look with Ron. She sat down.

"May. When she left."

"Is she...?"

"She's alive." He nodded, fetching a wet rag to wipe his bloodied face.

Snape was watching her. She looked up at him, not sure why her eyes were pleading.

"You should have let someone know where you were or that you were okay." He told her simply. She wanted to protest with her reasons, but she did not. Hermione nodded. Snape raised his eyebrows in response.

"Maybe we should get muggle mobiles. That way if we can't send a patronus, we can still get word."

"Sounds like an idea, Hermione." Ron said. Harry nodded, still scowling.

"Where were you?" Snape asked.

"I went to the muggle museum." She reported. "Then, I was in Diagon Alley for a while. I stopped by the grocery on the way back."

"George just missed you then." Ron commented. Snape had folded his arms, leaned against the doorframe.

"What happened to May?" She swallowed, waiting.

Harry scowled, washing the rag out in the sink. Ron stepped forward sheepishly, taking a seat. He sighed, setting his elbows on his knees. "She left here this morning, got a few blocks, and was attacked. Luna left a little while after, thought she was being followed, but wasn't hurt. Then you left. No one heard from you or saw you for almost twelve hours."

"What happened to her?" Hermione asked after May.

"Whoever it was liked to use physical force. Two of them stunned her, pulled her in an alley and beat her up. They might have done more, but a muggle startled them and they left without her. The muggle wasn't killed either, so whoever it was had some sense about it."

"Carrow." Snape spoke.

Harry nodded once. It made sense. It was someone who enjoyed being hands on, but could show restraint and logic enough to plot. Carrow was in the article Luna, Hermione, and Harry just worked on this morning. Amycus's sister had been captured and sent to Azkaban, but he had escaped after the final battle. Harry had hit him with a cruciatus. Having been at Hogwarts, taking pleasure in abusing students when not teaching Dark Arts, he remained one of the most dangerous Death Eaters at large.

"She can't remember their faces," Harry went on to say. "Wouldn't recognize their voices. We were going to look at her memory to see if we know the voices." He stood and put on his work cloak with the Auror emblem, heading to his fireplace.

"Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione offered, unsure why her friend was being so uncharacteristically cold.

He'd already said, "St. Mungos."

"It's okay, Hermione." Ron offered, donning his own cloak. "He's not mad at you. He's the assistant director and an auror under him was attacked leaving his house. Whoever it was got away."

"So he's being rude to me because he's embarrassed?" She demanded.

"No," Ron shook his head. "He's mad because he feels like he failed. We sent her away. St. Mungos!"

Hermione turned stunned back to Snape as her other friend disappeared. She chewed her lip. "It was supposed to be me," she breathed. "That's why he's mad."

Snape shook his head. "Don't be foolish. No one should even know you are here, let alone that you would be leaving the morning after your party. They could have gone after Miss Lovegood, but they had already gotten to this auror. She's trained; she should have been able to protect herself from such an attack."

She frowned, not liking his assessment but unable to disagree. "I hope Harry doesn't beat himself up too badly."

Snape sighed exasperated. "You know he will. We don't need you doing it as well. Perhaps none of you should travel alone for the time being."

"Ha! What until what? All the death eaters are captured? All their kids tracked? We can't do that."

"Potter and Weasley travel in tandem. Surely you have faith they will catch them all." He challenged.

She chewed her lip.

"What is it?" He asked coolly.

"What?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Granger. We both know you're not. You only chew your lip like that when you're bothered and don't feel you can say why. So tell me what it is."

She looked at him, very much wanting to ask him why he wanted to know, but he knew it would miff him. "It's stupid." She said instead.

He waited, one eyebrow raised.

"Is there anything I could do to make them not hate me?" She expected him to be short with her, not to look stunned.

* * *

He tried to conceal his shock. Of all the things he had imagined she might be thinking, that was not it. He had expected her to maybe say: would it be wrong to kill them? Would she ever be safe? Should she leave the wizarding world? Would he accompany her if she had to go somewhere?

But this young woman, who was well-acquainted with the evil and dangers of the world, was actually asking as innocently as a child if there was anything she could do to make these people – who wanted to hurt her, rape her, torture her, and kill her and everyone she cared about— from hating her.

"What?" She asked, embarrassed.

"How can you ask such a thing?"

"I know, I know," She began magically unpacking her grocery bag. She had managed to fit a lot in it right under the muggles' noses. He watched her hands move busily, but he stared at her face in utter disbelief. For a moment, he actually wondered if Hermione Granger was human. She certainly was much more intelligent than most humans. This reaction was anything but human.

"But now that the war is over they dare not attack random mud—muggle borns." She corrected. "If I had not—"

He stood before her, reaching for her hands. "Stop. Just stop." It was hard to get the words out. He had to push them. She froze, her eyes almost fearful. "If you had not done what? Fought honorably? Foiled Riddle's plan to enslave and conquer and murder?"

"Well," She blinked, defeated. "I suppose you're right. I just never set out to be so hated. Seems silly, doesn't it?"

He looked into her face, seeing her—Hermione Granger the woman— for the first time.

Her fresh complexion was blemished only by her blushing cheeks. They reminded him a cheery trees blossoming in spring, which was disgustingly poetic, he thought at the same time. Her eyes were the warmest most welcoming things he had ever seen. The rarity and shine of Lily's were something beautiful to behold, terrible when she was angry, but Hermione's were like looking into the windows of a snug, cabin from outside in the night in the cold, the way they glowed with warmth.

Her lashes fluttered like a damned doe, her neck as long, pale, and slender as she looked up at him, "Professor?" She asked, her voice melodic and distant. Her body, inches from his own, was so vulnerable, so feminine, like a damned statue of woman in her prime—he thought with a purposeless anger— and yet she like an ant could bear so much, yield so much power that it crackled on the air.

And there she was, ready to kill in an instant if danger walked through the door, yet standing in a kitchen unpacking bananas and asking if there was anything she could do to make these creatures hate her less.

"Are you even human?" He whispered.

"Sorry?" She shook her mop of hair.

"Severus." He told her, coming back to earth.

She wrinkled her brow as if she had not heard him correctly.

"Severus." He repeated. "I see no reason to stand on formality any longer. Potter certainly takes the liberty, and you know me better than he."

"Very well, Severus." She said his name slowly like a gentle hiss. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"You cook?"

"Oh, well, no not really." She seemed to remember suddenly.

He fought a smile. He was not sure why he was fighting it, habit he supposed. She looked up at him helpless, and he laughed. This seemed to startle her, but once recovered she chuckled a little. "It's not funny." She protested. "I can bake. That's about it."

"We could go get dinner." He heard himself offer. It was strange. He knew the sentence to be a fact. It was possible; they could go get dinner, but the implications did not seem…possible.

"What about Harry and Ron?" She asked immediately.

He frowned. "I daresay they won't starve."

"I won't know when they will get back anyway." She sighed, admitting.

"We by no means have to," he began.

"No." she grabbed his arm before he could spin away, injured. "I want to go. There's, um, some sort of pub or something nearby, I think…"

"Miss Granger,"

"Wait, why would you call me that if I'm calling you Severus?" Her tone was bordering playful.

He bowed his head slightly. "Hermione," It was a pretty sound, but his mouth felt awkward saying it. "I am perfectly capable of cooking dinner."

"Really?"

He feigned annoyance. "Yes, really. I've been a bachelor for years, and I don't spend my summers being waited on by house elves. It's not terribly different from potion making."

"Oh, I see." If Granger, that is Hermione, weren't so sharp he would think she had just realized he was asking her to dinner. "Sir,"

He cleared his throat, hardly comfortable with having a young woman over who felt the need to address him like that.

"Sorry, Severus," She emphasized, looking about shyly but still smiling. He waited for her to politely decline his invitation. Despite the fact that she had so boldly announced her _desire_ for him, he could hardly imagine a young woman with such a future just beginning to be interested in having a quiet dinner at home with a man old enough to be her father, a man who had not even been particularly kind to her. His lips began to curl into a grimace even before she spoke. "Would it be alright if I just freshened up, first? I've been out all day and I'm a bit—" She scratched behind her ear, played with her hair.

He could not help but smile at her nervousness. "Of course." He said slowly. "I'll go ahead to Spinner's End and start the meal. Come when you're ready." He said it as if it were conversational, an everyday occurrence. It wasn't the first meal they had, after all. This one, however, felt different.

"I won't be long." She assured him, speaking quickly. "I just need to change and I better leave a note for Harry."

"I'll see you at eight thirty?"

"Eight thirty." She nodded.

* * *

He used the floo, so she could see and hear how he did it, striding directly from his fireplace into his den. Magically, he set the whole house busy cleaning itself. He began boiling water for surely whatever he was going to cook needed that. He went with asparagus sautéed with ginger—luckily he knew she ate the vegetable. Salmon was what he had, so salmon it would be. The rice was on, salmon smoking, asparagus warming.

He looked over the house: sufficiently clean. Candles would help the place smell better so he lit a few scented ones he'd received as gifts but never used.

Should he change? Was she going to change? Would she be more formal or more casual than before?

He decided to wear his normal white shirt and nice black slacks, nothing formal but with his sleeves down and it properly buttoned, so there was that at least. Vest or no vest? A vest could be formal with no coat, couldn't it?

"Damn it!" He tossed the garment and its fidgety buttons aside. Then, he felt utterly ridiculous. Why was he getting a tizzy over having Granger over for dinner? It was just Granger. Though at the thought of how hurt she'd feel at being thought of as 'just Granger', he berated himself badly and put on the vest, unbuttoning the sleeves.

He laid a soft blanket on the sofa for a homier feel, fluffed the pillows in the sitting room, and extinguished the candles. That would be too romantic. It was nearing eight thirty. He had just returned to the kitchen when he heard her call for him from the fireplace; she was three minutes early.

"In here. Nearly done."

"Need any help?" She stuck her head inside, and he stopped a minute kicking himself for ever calling her 'just Granger'. Somehow, some time, under everyone's noses Hermione Granger went from a whiney know-it-all girl to a strong and sexy woman whose messy twist up, loose curls falling in her face, made him forget what she'd said.

"Sorry?"

"I said do you need any help?"

"I thought you said you were useless in the kitchen."

"Well, I don't think I used the word _useless_."

"I'm nearly done," He returned to his work. "Make yourself comfortable."

What was missing? He examined the plates. A spring of parsley or was that too over the top? He spotted it: wine. It was definitely missing wine, so he took a bottle of red and handed it to her through the kitchen door. "Would you open this please, Hermione?"

"Sure." He felt her take it.

When he levitated in the plates into the room, the table shrunk to fit two but not too intimately, she was pouring his glass.

"Thank you." He said, glad he had not lit the candles that had adorned the table most of his life. He felt funny enough. Not able to round the table in time, he pulled out her chair with wandless, wordless magic.

"Thank _you_." Her plate rested before her as she took her seat. "When you said you would cook, I thought…"

"You thought?" He prompted, giving her a hard time. He was actually enjoying forcing the compliment.

"Stew and things, you know." He raised an eyebrow. "This is… something."

"You like salmon?"

"I love it."

He nodded. "Good. Shall we?"

"Severus," She closed her eyes as she chewed. He tried not to enjoy the expression as she tilted back that willowy neck and made a quiet moan. "This is so good."

"I'm pleased you like it."

"You really didn't have to go through the trouble."

"It's no trouble." He said with a flick of his head. "I'd have to eat dinner anyway."

"You mean you're not a vampire, as the first years kept asking me?" A smirk played on her reddened lips as she sipped her wine.

He returned it for a second. "Well, that remains to be seen. Either way, it wouldn't hurt to let them believe it."

She laughed lightly. "You're already intimidating enough. Spare the poor things."

"Poor indeed. Am I so menacing?"

"You know you are. You enjoy it."

"Yet I seem to have lost my effect on you." He sounded a bit disappointed.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, taking another bite of lemon glazed salmon and wild rice. "Yes, but it took some time. I shall keep the secret safe, don't worry."

"What secret?" He asked.

"Well, the problem is," She said seriously in between bites. "Once one finds out your secret, that you are actually one of the very best of men, who would give his life to protect students from harm rather than easily kill them, some of the danger is substantially removed." She sighed as if disappointed, drinking again. "Don't worry, you're still scary. They know they might be failed or punished thoroughly."

The very best of men? Surely, she did not…

"You think that?"

"That you would have failed us if we earned it?"

"No," he shook his head. "That I am…such a man."

"Of course you are." Her fork drifted across her plate.

His own utensil hit his plate with clatter as he set it down. He covered his brow with his hands.

"Severus?"

"I have done horrible things."

"I know."

"Things you cannot imagine." He murmured to his napkin.

"You think I cannot?"

"No." He said darkly. "I know you cannot."

"Don't." She said simply.

"What?"

"You've made us a nice meal. Don't do this to yourself."

"Miss Granger,"

"Hermione, please."

"Miss Granger," He repeated, more harshly. "You sit across from a man you think to be good to be safe eating a meal and drinking wine as if—"

She set her glass down. "You are a good man. I am perfectly safe, and we are eating and meal and drinking wine."

"You know why Riddle was close to me? Felt such a special comradery between the two of us?"

"You want to tell me."

"You should know. I have no right." He threw his napkin on the table, disgusted with himself. "No right to be sitting here and pretending to begin a normal life." He began the tirade.

"What is it?" She demanded, surprising him.

He looked up at her, blinked. "Riddle killed his muggle father when he was still a teen. The man had abandoned him and his mother, calling them freaks, beginning his fixation on blaming all the pain and ostracizing in his life on muggles and muggleborns. So he tracked him down and murdered Riddle Sr. and his family. It was his first kill.

She nodded. She knew this. "When I was at school, bullied and alone, some of the Slytherins tried to bring me over to their way of seeing things once I showed promise in potions and dueling."

She watched as the story spilled out of him. No one alive knew this about him. Albus used to carry it, but now he bore it alone. Maybe that was why it came out so effortlessly when it had stayed buried for years. Perhaps her open face, her faith in him gave him hope she might be able to handle the truth, or maybe he could stand another day of deceit, letting her believe he was a man he was not.

"They took me in, gave me what I needed when my mother died. They shared my hatred of Potter and Black, protecting me from them at times. He made me feel wanted, valued, needed. I was seduced. I had already lost my best friend, childhood love. Then, I irrevocably lost her friendship, solidifying in my mind the nature of muggleborns—untrustworthy. Knowing this would happen, time and time again, the Dark, Riddle kept his word.

"When I showed you the memory of the mark, I was holding back. I showed you a bad one yes, the moment I crossed a line from which I could never return, not fully. Within his ranks, he needed an act of fidelity, commitment to the cause. It was not just that. The new member did it without their mask, in front of the rest of the group, so if you ever decided to turn, you were guilty yourself. There was no escape."

She took an unsteady breath. He gave her a moment to steady herself before he continued.

"So what better to have me do than finally rid myself of my greatest abuser? For weeks, Riddle promised me the opportunity. When my mask was removed I had hoped." It was difficult to admit. "I hoped it was Potter, I was so bitter."

"He tortured you." She attempted.

"No." He corrected her. "I have been tortured. Potter harassed me, bullied me, terrorized me even. But I was jealous, and I blamed him for my own failings. I claimed he drove me to the dark side, made me a jealous, bitter, lonely young man."

She nodded for him to continue, the remnants of their meal abandoned.

"Imagine my surprise to see my muggle, drunkard father trembling before me. The man who had beat me and neglected me my entire life, who, to my belief, was responsible for my mother's death. Just like Riddle. It was obvious, poetic," He almost laughed. "But I was young and stupid. I had not expected it, not known Riddle would go through such trouble for me or stand there watching with such…hunger.

"I hesitated. I saw Riddle's anger at once, but my father was saying my name scare shitless." Her eyes were welling with tears as if she was there in the moment. He looked down. "And then he started snarling at me, spitting really the way he always spoke to me, about the freaks I had fallen in with, getting him in trouble. He maintained I was too weak and cowardly to kill him, laughed, spat at me. He told Riddle how useless as I was and a waste, like my mother.

"I looked him in the eyes and said, 'You will never insult her again.'"

She waited for something. He barely spoke. "He did not."

For a moment, she said nothing, looked in her lap. He looked away towards the blackened window. "And if you had not killed him?" She asked coolly, replacing her folded napkin to its place.

"Riddle would have killed me." He responded, knowing what she was after. "But I wanted to do it."

"Of course you did." She surprised him. "He abused you. He took away your mother. You were an angry teenager being prodded by a psychopath. Tell me, did you enjoy it?"

"Of course not!"

"Do you like to relive it?"

"No!" He stood angrily.

"And now?"

"I am a different man." He stopped short, hearing his own answer. Oh, she thought she was a clever witch, didn't she?

She sighed, standing and pushing in her chair and collecting her plate. "Shall I?" She asked. He cut her off with a wave of his wand, whisking the dishes through to the next room to wash themselves. They stood a few feet apart, and he felt sweat dampen his shirt. He waited for her to look at him, say something, anything.

But she had grabbed her bag from the back of the chair and was reaching in it. He should never had told her that, or at least not right then. He had not planned it and instantly regretted it, afraid she would leave hating him.

"Hermione," He took a careful step forward. She turned, smiling. It nearly knocked him backwards.

"I picked this up on the way here." She held up a powdered sugar-dusted dessert, her smile tentative. "Strawberries?" She licked off the juice that had gotten on her small finger.

"My favorite."

* * *

A/N: Did this make up for the double cliff hangers? I do hope you enjoyed their dinner. I did. Please do take the time to review! reviews are _my_ favorite.

Yours,

Elsie


	24. Will

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

* * *

A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! That was one of my favorites. On a personal note, I spent an hour and a half tapped in line at Gringotts, then the ride broke while we were on it. Diagon Alley was pretty sweet though. Thoughts on HP World?

Also, many of you were talking about Hermione's reaction to Snape's story. Some of you loved it and some of you thought it was a bit ... subdued. I love Hermione character for being accepting of people, but also keep in mind we were only seeing the events as Snape saw them, not Hermione's thoughts yet. A bit of that here, so I hope that improves things for those of you who felt unsure. I do hate killing realism for any readers, and I love all feedback!

* * *

Chapter 24: Will

* * *

Hermione Granger did not see Severus for over a week. She was quite busy, laboring over details, word choice, and rechecking punctuation on her article as well as looking over a few others for Luna at her place for lunch most days. Luna enjoyed the company, she assured her. The blonde put the magazine second to her interest in chasing fantastical—and Hermione suspected nonexistent - creatures, but fortunately was open to Hermione's opinion on including some articles that did not feature mythical animals or conspiracy theories.

The first of these was a front page splash on Death Eaters still at large—who they were and what they had done, where they might be, how to report them safely and Harry Potter's advice on how to handle them should you encounter them. It was a public safety piece. Harry had also requested they list the number of dead or captured Death Eaters as 'defeated', for morale.

Their next plan was to do a spot on vindicated defector Draco Malfoy. The interview would include Harry's confidence in his innocence, his story, his new job. Luna had also sent out to Ginny to do a quidditch column to bring in new readers. Although Hermione knew little about quidditch, it looked good, and the sport fans who had looked it over thought highly of it. The rest of issue would stay true to its loyal reader's interests—the bizarre.

Meanwhile, Hermione had also prepared what she could for the text, organizing Severus' work into chapters or volumes in the evenings. It may be useless and she may have to re-do it, but she did not mind. It needed to be perfect.

Most days she spent absorbed in the backrooms of Flourish and Blotts doing shelving and inventory. Soon she would learn the art of orders and bookkeeping, but not yet. Although she enjoyed the back, she also ventured out among the shelves, re-shelving and browsing when the shop was less crowded. When they were swamped, she signed magazines for paying customers at the till, winning a broad smile from her benevolent employer.

It was one morning on the way in, though it was steamy hot outside and already sunny, that she heard the tinkle of the bell, greeted old Mr. Welling, and inhaled the smell of dust and books and she recalled this was exactly the type of thing she'd envisioned during her talk with Snape. Perhaps it was not ambitious a position, but it was pleasant. She enjoyed the job. The little money she had from their award was in her bank and would pay her hefty muggle university fees. Since she paid no rent at Harry's, just fed herself, two boys, and their guests, the bookstore was enough.

Ron, Harry, and George seemed unsurprised Hermione took a job in a bookstore. What could be more natural, a bookworm and books? Luna never seemed surprised by much at all. Ginny, however, was livid.

"You what?"

"Relax, Gin. She just got a job." Ron defended.

"But I thought you were helping Luna with _The Quibbler_." The girl shook her head, confused.

"She is." Luna answered, buttering bread. "You can have more than one job."

"If you needed money-"

"I don't!" She protested, stung. Though it was only true for the time being. She would need money soon enough.

"And Snape's research?" Ginny persisted.

"That too. But I'm just assisting for experience."

"She's always working." Ron said, mouth full.

"Need to get out for a night." George winked.

"I don't get it." Ginny pulled apart her bread as if it had a bad attitude.

"What's there to get? Hermione and books." Harry explained.

"Eloquently put, Harry." Hermione teased her friend.

"But Hermione, you could have a position at the ministry! A real job with a real future. People come and ogle the hero working in a bookstore."

"They do not come there to ogle me!" She objected, hurt. "And who cares if they do? I don't sign anything unless they buy."

"Your boss must love you." George commented.

"He does. And he's very kind to me."

"But it's just…" Ginny struggled. "You look like you're hiding in there."

"I'm not hiding from anything! Not everyone wants to be a quidditch star! If you want to try out for professional teams, I'm happy for you. Why aren't you happy for me?"

Silence fell as she stopped yelling. The three men were staring at Ginny who looked straight ahead at the wall. She had not told them, Hermione realized with gulp.

"Ginny?" Said Harry.

She smiled weakly. "I've had a couple try outs. I didn't want to say anything until I heard."

"For who?" Ron leapt. Harry just stared at her.

"Harpies and Canons."

"Wicked!" Ron said proudly.

"Well done, Sis." George nodded.

"Harry?" She asked.

"Congratulations." He recovered, sipping his minestrone.

"I haven't gotten an offer yet."

"Only a matter of time." He smiled. His girlfriend returned it happily.

"Sorry, I didn't realize." Hermione said to her.

"It's okay." She shrugged it off. "No harm. Sorry I, er, reacted badly, Hermione. I just want you to not sell yourself short, you know?"

Hermione blinked at her. Is that what they thought she was doing? She certainly hoped they did not. She was assisting with the most outrageous publication in the wizarding world, as well as helping the mean potions master, their least favorite teacher, and taking a student-type summer job in a bookshop after 'hiding' out in Hogwarts for a year. Of course Ginny thought that.

Hermione nodded in understanding and did the dishes. She did not feel like she was wasting her potential. She thought she rather deserved a relaxing job for a while, at least until she started classes in the fall.

And that made her think: if Ginny was livid at the idea of Hermione taking work she did not approve of, what would her friend's reaction be if she knew how Hermione had with such boldness, thanks in part to George's liquid courage and in part to her new found maturity and independence, declared her desire to be bedded by Severus Snape?

Another gulp.

She was yet unsure what she wanted from him. On the one side, she did not wish to jeopardize their working relationship, budding friendship. Following their war experiences and project, she felt he treated her with more respect. Her friends still treated her as their childhood friend and bookworm, not seeing how she had changed for better and worse. Strangers had extreme and inaccurate views of her character. Severus, as she was trying to get used to calling him, seemed to know her exactly as she was and treat her as, well, an equal. Coming from a man such as that, such treatment alone was a compliment because he was not friendly and because to be his equal was to be called quite smart and quite brave as well. He had been such a gentleman with that dinner, nearly ruining her nicest date with his self loathing tantrum.

Of all the things he had shared with her, that one was the deepest, the most surprising. She was careful not to react, to use what he had taught her, when he told her he had murdered his father. It was heinous, unthinkable. Her jaw felt lose and her hand wanted to cover her mouth- to stop vomit or a scream, she could not be sure- but if she were weak, if she could not take the what he gave her, he would shut her out completely. It's not as if she had not suspected it, the way he never said what befell his father, and she knew he had killed. So had she she supposed, though it was hard to tell in battle. But she knew she was capable of doing it, face to face. Maybe that's what she truly feared meeting in fights-not an adversary at all, but herself. He had no choice in the matter, forced to live with what he did for years, stare it in its face. If he could be strong, so could she. With a shiver he may have missed, she steeled herself and pushed it aside.

So afterwards, she had cried, picturing a Snape as young as Harry had been when they carried his body out of the forest, trapped and kneeling before Riddle, forced to kill someone he hated and mistaking his hatred of the horrible man as murder. It gave her nightmares: sometimes she cried for Snape, but could not stop him from doing it. "Who are you?" He said in the dreams. "I don't know you." She cried harder then. Other times, it was she he had to kill. And she said nothing, just stared at the floor. She knew he would do it. He would do whatever needed to be done.

She wouldn't tell him about the dreams. Not ever. Because even worse than undoing their friendship was the thought of never being able to be near him again, and there came into play the very different, second side of things and the part of her that stepped a toe across that line once in a while because the temptation was too great.

Severus had such a powerful presence, and that with his character- the hidden gentleness under the cold exterior- made her feel a comfort she did not have in other men's company. She did admire him; how could she not? He was the most courageous, sacrificing man she had ever met, possibly the best man. And over the past few months, she had come to be terribly, embarrassingly attracted to him.

But she knew this man well enough to know pursuing him, for it would be _her_ pursuing _him_, would never amount to more than a sexual relationship that the two would hopefully be mature enough pretend had not happened once it inevitably ended, for the sake of continuing their friendship and work. He could never love her. His heart was taken by a woman who was dead so she could never fall out of favor, only become more idealized. His love for and commitment to Lily Potter was part, perhaps, of what made him so romanticized in her mind.

Was she truly fixating on this man because he would never return her affection? Was it sexy because it was forbidden? Could she truly be so messed up?

Or was she right in the sinking suspicion that she and Severus were quite compatible, the way the talked as easily as they sat in silence or worked side by side, or kissed...And then what of her inkling that she would never think so highly of nor feel so …secure, for lack of a better word, with any other, lesser, man?

So after much thought, she concluded that her goal must be first to maintain their friendship and second to make sure she had at least one glorious night in his company. It was certainly not her character, but she did not think she would ever be able to be with another man happily with the thought in her mind of how _he_ would kiss her, touch her. She could get it out of her system, and then because there was no chance for anything further, she would remind herself he could never love her and their friendship mattered more.

It was impossible to tell when the thought surfaced, only that it followed her among the pages of her work for days, circling. She decided on it with her hands in the soapy water as her friends chattered in the background. Hermione Granger liked to have a plan. It would be nice to get her first time out of the way with a man who would not harm her, or break her heart, a man who knew what he was doing. She would get over it quietly and in private. She would not let herself fall in love with him, if such a thing could even happen.

"Hermione, are you even listening?" Harry asked.

"Sorry. What?"

"You're going to a muggle University in a few months, right? What classes are you taking?"

"Don't know yet." She fibbed, drying her hands. She was not up for any of her friends, namely Ginny, giving their concerns on her decisions. Then again, they were her friends. Perhaps she was making a mistake rejecting the ministry offer. For the first time, she caught herself intending to ask Severus what he thought of it.

* * *

"Ridiculous." He commented when she finally told him of Miss Weasley's accusations that she was avoiding something. Hermione smiled faintly, continuing the work they were pouring over. He did not look up as he said, "You are young. It's a perfectly acceptable position. The fact that you were offered a better paying or more…prestigious one means next to nothing except that you are likely to have more offers of that caliber in the future should you seek them.

"I turned down plenty of other offers besides Hogwarts," he continued. "Though I wasn't always thrilled to be teaching and was mostly there to be closer to Albus. Refusing them has not made most options vanish."

"I just wanted something relaxing." She pressed. "It's not as if I'm not learning. It's easy work though, and I've got this as well."

"And _the Quibbler_ also I see." He commented.

"Well yes," she admitted, unsure what he would think. "Luna asked me and I know how reliable the _Prophet_ is."

"Indeed."

"And it's not as if I want to stay there forever." She further defended.

"It's your business if you do anyway." He muttered, carefully making notes. "I think I do want to move this entire section to third year after all."

"I'm starting a muggle university in the fall." She casually announced, not that he'd be interested, trying to rub away an error.

"Are you?" He looked up, pausing in his work.

"Yes." She nodded happily.

"And will you be able to continue our work, without distracting form your—"

"Oh, of course. I made certain." She assured him. "I'll only be taking a couple classes two days per week. There will plenty of work outside of that and exams, but time wise I won't have to be there physically very much."

"That wouldn't be fair. You won't be able to truly have the experience."

She looked at him. "My business anyway, isn't it?" She tossed back at him. He smiled slightly and returned to scouring his document. The smile was crooked and more of just a flicker up on one side that quickly went back to an even line. She had seen it more and more as she teased him, snapped at him, purposely agitated him, and feigned insult since that night - their dinner. "I'm perfectly fine with choosing my own experiences in my own way."

"Obviously. You chose to waste a beautiful Saturday with your mean, old potions master."

"Well, it's not as if we could take a break and go enjoy the weather, could we?"

"And why not?" He asked, his tone its usual deep drawl.

"Vampire." She reminded him matter-of-factly. "Wouldn't the sunlight make you vulnerable?"

"Naturally." He said sarcastically. She ceased her silliness, not wanting to push it, and the pair worked in silence for some time.

Her work floated before her chair like a desk from her velvety armchair. It and its twin across from her were black, like the couch facing the fireplace, while the carpet under them was red. The blanket along the back of the couch matched. She did not comment on it, but it did make her smirk a little.

He worked across from her, the window with lace curtains behind him, a window seat lined by books and covered with plump red pillows of varying shades. She imagined it was a pleasant reading spot, but she had yet to make herself that comfortable, though she did had put her feet on the little black stool or offered to fetch them some tea.

"That's quite enough." He told her at last, closing his book and standing. "A walk?"

She blinked once in surprise before standing and accepting his hand.

They walked as the day began to cool, a breeze rolling in around them. They were a few blocks from the river, chimneys in view. He indicated the heat and trash in that spot would make the water smell. His legs were longer, but he did not stride so quickly as he often did on the school grounds. The two let their eyes take a break as they watched the sunset over the buildings. Conversation was sparse, but neither minded. It felt nice to stretch her legs, watch the type of clouds that looked like they were painted with a brush as they moved along with the wind cooling her face.

"You grew up here?" She asked.

"I did." He said darkly. She did not push it. She smelled a fish and chips stand nearby.

* * *

"I'm starving." Hermione confessed as they made their way up the cobbled street. They had not eaten while they worked, he realized. He felt a pang of guilt, having worked the girl all day for nothing and not even thought to take a break for lunch.

"Chips?" He asked. She nodded and they turned in that direction. He did not know why he had proposed the walk other than his legs were stiff and eyes tried and the day beautiful. He and Lily used to go on walks when they were younger. He had expected Granger, or Hermione as he was trying to get used to calling her since the young woman deserved to be treated with such respect, to be chatty.

She was not. He was relieved to find they walked easily in sync and fell into pleasant silence. She commented once on the clouds, asked a question here and there. He made a single comment he did not recall.

He alternated between being incredibly comfortable in her presence and unfathomably uncomfortable. Whenever he found himself having a human reaction to her touch or the way she sucked on her lip, he wanted to crawl out of his own skin. When they talked, worked, or sat in his living room until evening, he hardly noticed company. When he had accidentally snapped, confessed too much in his appall that she thought so highly of him, she had been utterly unbothered. This had both effects simultaneously.

Hermione Granger was annoying and her hair frizzy, but she knew him as well as any other living person, though he had no idea how that had come about. And she quite possibly thought more highly of him than any person ever had. How that had come about, he could not ever hope to understand.

They walked further and he stepped up to the window first, buying both his and hers.

"Thank you." She offered, as she always did. He nodded only.

They were delicious and salty. She licked her fingers as they stepped aside from the small crowd. "I should probably apparate back." She commented as she stared at the sky pink and blue, gold tinged at the edges.

"The corner ahead is free." He told her. "I won't be able to meet with you next week as normal."

"Oh. Alright." Was her only response. She did not ask why, perhaps not wanting to pry. When he glanced up at her, he noticed she rubbed a stone with her toe. He kept an eye on her until she said what was on her mind. "Rex's trial will be next week. I got notice."

"As did I. I have been summoned as a witness." He told her conversationally.

"Oh." She was slightly surprised.

"Is that all you can say?" He was harsher than he meant to be. Her eyes snapped up to him.

"I'm sorry you have to bother with it." The sincerity in her tone repulsed him.

He frowned, nearly scoffed at that. "It is his fault alone. You will be fine."

"He'll be there."

"You will be fine." He repeated levelly, looking into her eyes.

She took a deep breath, nodding in the affirmative. "I will see you after that, I suppose."

"You will." He said simply.

"Goodnight, Severus."

"Be careful." He told her as she turned towards the alley. He checked it a moment later. She had gone. It was difficult to let her come and go on her own all the time, but even more difficult to force Hermione Granger to be accompanied or babysat.

She was so stubborn.

They were still looking for the Carrow that remained on the loose, the one who had attacked the auror. He had offered Potter what information he could on where Carrow might have gone. In the meantime, he had to watch his own back. Walks were dangerous, but he was not going to be a prisoner any longer either.

He tossed the fish and chips and stalked back to his old house, mulling over the way he had allowed the know-it-all to nose her way into his life—getting his help, caring for his injuries, working with him on his projects. The most disturbing part was the way they sat across from each other and he completely forgot it was the know-it-all across from him. He wanted to kick himself, imagining telling Albus about his newest friendship and seeing his unease when Severus admitted the way it sounded … _different_ to him when he heard _her_ say, "Severus."

He tried to remind himself she had been eleven when they met, but it seemed a lifetime ago. He could only see her leaning over him as he realized he was alive, warm brown eyes, gentle caress on his face, '_Welcome back.'_

He remembered the shadowy room, pulling her forcefully against him, his mind gone as he kissed her.

He saw her on his settee, the same settee she had sat with her long legs dripping, asking breathlessly if the potion was still working because she wanted to kiss him.

Her body was in his arms on the floor as her lips turned blue, last breaths struggled out…

Her shy smile following his terrible confession, the smell of strawberries filling the room.

He did not mean to slam his door in frustration.

* * *

"What are you smiling about?" Ron asked that evening after she returned.

"Nothing." She answered too quickly. "Just enjoying myself, Ron. It's nice being home with both of you, and I like my job."

"Yeah. Tell me about it."

She smiled at them over her book. When she was at work, she was buried in books or having lunch with Luna, whose eccentricities became more charming with each brief visit, or spending her weekend wading through mountains of information with... Severus, who insisted she call him Severus. They had a little tea, sometimes a cake or sandwich even lighter conversation, usually on the topic at hand, but she enjoyed it, the way she could tease him, his rare compliments and gentle curtseys, like buying her fish and chips on the walk that evening.

Honestly, she thought she had the better deal at the time. Ginny was gone trying out and conditioning for try outs; they rarely heard from her. Neville and George were over occasionally relieving the boys after a long day's work and making her laugh at their antics. And their days were long days for the boys. Three times in the last couple weeks they had been called away by a sudden alarm. Afterwards, they related their exciting chases to her. She sat on the edge of her seat, sure.

"We arrived outside, staying back from the perimeter, some of us circling in disguises, one in the air –that was Harry, invisible and flying communicating back to me—the rest of us disillusioned outside. Then, we barged the door. Guy made a break for it, but Harry tailed him. Neville and Peters took him down in disguise while Harry obliterated the nearby muggles."

"That's amazing!"

"Don't you ever miss it, Hermione?" he asked.

She recalled the crackle of spells falling all around her, the cold faces of Tonks and Lupin laid beside each other. "No." She answered honestly, knowing it would disappoint them. It was not a feeling she wanted to repeat.

"That's alright." Ron offered in his best attempts at understanding. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

With the end of summer meaning she would be starting university classes, Hermione had something to look forward to and only two things did she dread. Eventually, when she did begin classes, Severus would return to Hogwarts. She would rarely see him, hear from him. And more closely at hand, there was the trial. She caught Harry and Ron discussing it from time to time, but they usually quieted when she entered the room. She did not mind; she did not want to think about it. Hermione Granger did not like to dwell on things she could not properly prepared for—no amount of reading could prepare her for the inquisitor's questions— so she busied her mind with anything and everything else until she could avoid it no longer.

"I suppose I'm as ready as I can be."

"You'll do fine." He assured her. She smiled at him.

And it seemed in no time at all she was standing before the doors to the court in the Ministry of Magic biting her lip. She was three minutes early. All she had to do was touch the thick, black door—there was no handle—and it opened for her. Taking a deep breath and recalling the scent of lavender, staring at the black metal, she emptied her mind and walked into the courtroom.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! Surprise, surprise. A little sort of cliffhanger. Told you that you would see more of Rex. Who is up for the trial? Do leave a little review. Thanks for reading.

Yours,

Elsie


	25. Witnesses

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Ali 647, Crimsonwolf520, and ariahchan. I think you will like this one; or at least I hope you all do! More thanks to come. Thank you to all who read and reviewed thus far. Haven't heard from some of you in a while; hope you're still reading and enjoying. You're all amazing for the number of reviews, favs, and follows- just broke 400! Edited this quickly; please forgive any little mistakes.

* * *

Chapter 25: Witnesses

* * *

"Miss Granger."

"Yes, Madam." Hermione aptly replied, looking pointedly across the round room to the speaker in the stands. She did not look down. Somewhere below the witness box, held secure, was Rex Forthright.

"You have been called forth to testify on the matter of Rex Forthright, minor, accused of Physical Attack. What knowledge have you of this matter?"

"I was Mr. Forthright's intended victim."

"Intended? Do you mean to say Mr. Forthright did not attack you?"

"He did attack me, ma'am, but he intended to—"

"Miss Granger, please restrict your comments to the things you have knowledge of and do not speculate on Mr. Forthright's intentions."

"I'm not speculating." Her voice rose slightly in outrage. "He told me exactly what he intended to do to me."

There were a few gasps.

"He had time to do so?" The inquisitor asked.

"Yes. I was knocked out then tied up. We were alone in a room for…I'd estimate twenty or thirty minutes altogether."

"Your testimony, Miss Granger, is that a fifth year student was able to single handedly lure you, disarm you, restrain you, and attack you without sustaining any injury himself?"

"Yes. Well," She added weakly. "I did hit him in the face."

"And yet during that time he did _not_ attempt to kill you?"

"No, his stated intention was to violate me."

"And why would he do that?"

"I was instructed not to speculate as to his intentions."

She was sharply told: "Did he say why?"

"Yes. It was his intention to teach muggleborns a lesson. He first attempted, he admitted to me, to kill or maim professor Snape and myself through sending us cursed rings as anonymous gifts. He then lured me into an empty room using a muggle projection nightlight and a Weasley's voice mimic device. I thought Miss Weasley was in trouble and followed her voice. Mr. Forthright claimed when I ran into him that he had heard it too. When we entered the room, he hit me in the head."

"Not true!" A voice yelled from below, bouncing off the walls.

"Silence, Mr. Forthright."

"When I came to," Hermione continued as if his voice had not struck her right in the chest. "He told me his intention was to violate me and leave me for Harry to find. He would try to cover me with my cloak, receiving a curse. Forthright expressed," she said coldly. "That he knew we would survive, but my memory being erased, he would hurt both of us, and that was satisfactory to him. He expressed he would not be tried for murder, but would have his revenge."

"Revenge? Did he speak to his motive?"

"He did, ma'am. He said Alistair Moody, auror and member of the Order of the Phoenix, killed his mother early in the war."

"Was he successful?"

"He hurt me."

"Please describe." The inquisitor said coldly. The others looked on without blinking. She struggled. Clearing her mind, she imagined speaking directly to Severus. She would just repeat exactly what she had said that night as he checked her injuries.

"Miss Granger?" The inquisitor called.

"She liked it." Rex snarled. "She was wet."

Hermione's face burned so brightly, throat painfully constricted. "I—I can't."

"Miss Granger, you alone were present. If you do not testify to what Mr. Forthright did…"

She was confused. Something was not right. "I—"

"Hermione," A voice said from the stands around the inquisitor.

"Silence." The stern woman ordered as a slight commotion stirred up.

It was Harry. He nodded to Hermione, his face fierce, strong. She returned the nod, looking only at him.

She let herself fall into darkness, feel nothing, heard her voice in the distance reciting: "He tied my hands tightly. The ropes hurt them. He knocked me out, giving me a cut, bump, and concussion. He ripped off my clothes, burned them with magic. He manhandled me, kissed me hard against my will. He told me to scream, but I wouldn't. He hit me. My lip was bleeding. I had bruises all over my body, scratch marks, my arms was bleeding from that, his fingernail prints in my scar." She was startled by the tears she felt sting her cheeks.

"And he stopped?"

"He was thrown off me by a spell."

"And who cast the spell?"

"Draco Malfoy."

More murmurs followed, a few shaking of heads.

"The defected Death Eater, the one who enable the Battle of the Astronomy Tower?"

"Yes, further proving his true loyalties. When I first saw him in the doorway, I was afraid he might be helping Rex. Malfoy and I never got along at school. But he stumbled across it, and he couldn't just stand there and watch it happen. Even to me."

"And did you go to the hospital wing?"

"No. Professor Snape helped me."

"Why did you not go to the hospital wing?"

"I was embarrassed and I did not want to trouble anyone."

"You went to Professor Snape's private rooms?" She opened her mouth to object and say his office, but it was a lie. She was more than willing to lie to protect his reputation, but he would not lie to protect his own and their stories must match.

She nodded.

"Miss Granger, did your professor see you in your undressed state?"

"No. Of course not. I stayed covered."

"Yet he was able to heal you."

"Except for minor bruises and scratches, yes."

"What were the nature of your private lessons with Professor Snape?"

"Madam?" Hermione asked. She was sure she had misheard the question.

The woman with the long, slim nose and glasses repeated the question with the exact same intonation as before.

"I fail to see how that has to do with the matter at hand—"

"Just answer the question, please." The woman did not sound agitated, and somehow that made it worse.

"He was helping me learn some Occlumency in preparation for trying his healing potion."

"For mental trauma?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Miss Granger, were you and Rex Forthright dating?"

She did not hide the shock crossing her face before "No."

"You had not been on a date or you were not dating when he attacked you?"

"We had spent a … we had been on a date." She admitted. "We were never together and we were not dating at the time."

"Had you been intimate?"

"Sorry?"

"Had you and Mr. Forthright been intimate before you say he attacked you?"

"No."

"Never?" The woman looked up from her notes. Her incredulous tone offended Hermione.

Her eyes stung with humiliation. "I've — no."

"I see." At least they did not make her finish the sentence.

"Miss Granger," Her tone softened as she changed her posture. One arm held her glasses and she looked directly at Hermione, not writing anymore. The witness felt herself relax. "Are you currently writing for the publication _The Quibbler_?"

"Um, yes." Again, she was confused. She'd laid awake in bed at night imaging questions. This was not one of them.

"The same publication that ran the article "Vampire Army Attempts to Infiltrate Ministry of Magic"?"

"I was not on that _exact_ publication."

"That is the same Quibbler, is it not?"

"It is." She answered carefully, not sure where they were going.

"You also gave an interview in that publication that you were tortured during the war, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you sought the help of your professor with that potion?"

"Yes."

"Have you been treated or evaluated by St. Mungo's?"

"No." The word came out slowly, like a question.

"You were offered a job at the Ministry of Magic?"

"Yes."

"But you work for the magazine and in a bookstore, correct?"

"I do, but what does that have to—" The sympathy in her voice was making Hermione's stomach turn. For the first time, she looked down at Rex—only for a second. He was relaxed, confident. It suddenly dawned on her what was happening.

"Miss Granger, you lost both your parents? Have no family, correct?"

"That is."

"You do not live alone?"

"I live with Harry and Ron."

People exchanged looks.

"And you ended things with your boyfriend, Ronald Weasley?"

"That—that's not relevant."

"That will be all, Miss Granger. We thank you for your time and your many sacrifices."

"But that's not why we were here." She felt her breath coming in quicker gasps. Outrage and embarrassment coursed through her stunned body. Other than unsteady breathing, she found it difficult to move. That was _not_ how this was supposed to go.

"It's alright, Miss Granger." She patronized as if talking to a confused elderly person who had wandered off.

"But, but he tried to rape me!" She hissed.

"We have your testimony, Miss Granger. All of those questions were submitted and had to be asked. None of it will leave this room."

Screaming at them how dare they put her on trial would make her look crazier. So she stood instead, with as much dignity and calm she could muster, trying to recall the feel of Severus hands on hers the smell of lavender in a dark room. Until she stepped out of the courtroom, she did not feel anything. She was just a hollow ball floating into the hall.

She had seen Harry get up angrily as soon as the inquiry was over, before they were dismissed, in a swish of robes. It would take him a few minutes to reach the other side where she would be waiting. As soon as she stepped out of the courtroom, she tried to walk past the couple of people there, not seeing them.

"Hermione?" Ron stood expectantly, his face concerned. "You alright?"

He was there for _her_, she realized. What could she say? Surprise shattered her emptiness. She felt and the shame overtake her. She jumped into her friends open arms. Ron petted her hair as tears leaked into his shirtfront.

"It was horrible, Ron." She struggled to say.

"It's alright, Hermione." He tried pathetically. She was glad it was her friends who were there. If it had been Severus, she might have tried to keep it together so he didn't think her a child or an emotional basket case. Ron understood her, but did not understand women. All their reactions were as puzzling as this was to him in that moment.

"Harry!" He said gratefully. "What happened in there?" She felt Harry's hand on her shoulder.

"Let's get out of here." He said darkly.

She did not see much as they led her past the press into a fireplace and vanished to the garden of the Burrow. From there, they floo-ed at once to Grim. She went directly to her chair and pouted.

Harry huffed over to the cabinet and began pouring drinks. "They tried to make her out to be crazy." He growled.

"What?" Ron asked, his voice high in disbelief. He made some puffing noises.

"Practically a nutter." Hermione confirmed, taking a swig of the drink in her glass and grimacing. It did not just burn; it tasted awful. "We need a bottle of wine."

"I'll get one." Ron made himself useful.

Harry sat down, kicking a table leg. "Shit!" He ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, Hermione. I had no idea it was going to be like that. I would have warned you."

"It's okay, Harry. I did not do too awful, did I?"

He shook his head, swallowing more of the nasty drink. "You were brilliant as usual." He lied. "And everyone's story will match yours. I hope they don't go at Snape like that."

"Snape?"

"Wine." Ron smiled, uncorking the bottle and summoning some glasses without his wand. Harry was right; he got better at magic every day.

"How'd you get it so fast, Ron?" Harry asked.

"Got it from mum, actually. Just apparated home and told her we needed wine. It was an emergency." He grinned widely.

Mrs. Weasley was generous as ever. The wine was excellent. Hermione recalled each question with the aide of wine and Harry while his impersonation of the inquisitor that had Ron in tatters.

* * *

"Severus Snape, you are here to testify on the matter of Rex Forthright, minor, accused of Physical Attack. What knowledge have you of this matter?"

"I and some others came upon Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy, and Mr. Forthright. I also treated Miss Granger's injuries." He explained as emotionless as possible.

"Please detail without speculation exactly what you saw when you entered the room."

"Miss Granger appeared to be unsteady on her feet and very pale. Her mouth was bleeding and she was wearing Mr. Malfoy's traveling cloak. Mr. Malfoy was several feet from her, his hair askew and shirt wrinkled as if he had been moving. Mr. Forthright was on the floor, unconscious."

"Did Mr. Forthright appear to be injured?"

"I could not tell." He replied honestly, but smelled a trap. One of the questioners wanted to know if the student was hurt.

"Did you witness any of the events that allegedly transpired just prior to this?"

"No." He answered not trying to explain it away. He would not sound defensive. Being defensive would make him sound as though he personally wanted them to conclude a certain way.

"How did you deduce what had happened?"

"Those present were alerted by Miss Granger's disheveled appearance. Headmistress McGonagall asked what had happened and Mr. Malfoy and Miss Granger explained."

"What did they say?"

Severus lip twitched. Hearsay. "Miss Granger said Mr. Forthright attacked her, Mr. Malfoy detailed that he found her on the floor, feet spread apart, legs magically stuck in place. Her hands were bound by rope. Mr. Malfoy said he saw Mr. forthright strike Ms. Granger across the face when he entered. Her clothes had been removed and when he entered Mr. Malfoy said Mr. Forthright was positioned on top of her, in the proper position to penetrate her sexually." They did not appreciate his word choice. Too bad. It was true. If it was uncomfortable to hear, they could just imagine how uncomfortable it was to walk in on, let alone experience.

"Did Mr. Malfoy indicate that Miss Granger said that this was against her will?" He grimaced.

"He indicated that from what he saw and heard from the pair of them, that much was obvious. Miss Granger herself also indicated this."

"Then what did you witness?"

"Concerned for Miss Granger's physical and emotional state, and given there were aurors present, I made to escort her to the hospital wing, as instructed by the Headmistress."

"But you did not take her to the hospital wing as instructed, did you?" She asked already knowing the answer.

"I did not." He gave her simply.

"Why not?" She paused in her writing.

"Miss Granger was not having it. I knew better than to argue with any member of the trio." He remarked sourly. Speaking of, where was that damn Potter? He had said he'd be there for the entire trial.

"So you took her to your private chambers."

He held in a sigh. He had no idea what Granger had said, may have lied for him. She would know, however, that he would not lie for himself. Therefore, she most likely told the truth.

"I did. I took her where she would be safe."

"Can you describe her injuries?" It was not really a question.

He took a moment to answer. "She had a considerable bump on her head, a cut there, and minor concussion. Her lip was cut, face red and bruising. The skin was rubbed raw from her wrists. There were fingernail marks on her arm where she had a scar. I healed these and applied a salve.

"She was also trembling so I gave her a calming draft and a potion for bruises and soreness. I did not examine her further but did insist she tell someone immediately if she had further injuries and offered her a potion if her attacker had violated her. She insisted he did not."

"Did you believe she was being truthful?"

"I have taught Hermione Granger for years. I would know if she were lying."

"You know Miss Granger very well, do you not?"

"Pardon?"

"What was the nature of the private lessons you were giving Miss Granger around this time?"

"That is private. You will have to ask Miss Granger."

"We have." She said haughtily. "We are asking you."

"I did as the Headmistress instructed." He answered, which was technically true. "If I betrayed the confidence of my students—especially when they were the victim of a crime— not many would confide in me, would they?"

"And do many of your students confide in you?" He did not like the way she said confide.

"Not many."

"So only the ones you take a special interest in?" He glared at them until they looked up. The one actually opened her mouth to retract the question she had read aloud. He answered very softly, forcing them to listen.

"I tutored Mr. Potter in Occlumency in his fifth year at Dumbledore's request in preparation for his ongoing fight with Riddle. I'm sure he will confirm. When a student seeks help in any capacity and it is within my ability to help them it is my duty to—"

"Have you had a romantic relationship with Miss Granger?"

"I'm sorry, are you asking me if I broke both my word to Albus Dumbledore,"

"The man you killed?"

"And the law in order to date one of my students while being a spy and a full time teacher and Head of House? That. Is. Absurd."

"And what about after her graduation?"

He was caught. Did their dinner, their work, a few walks constitute… "I fail to see how that has anything to do with—"

"Is it possible that your bias towards Miss Granger—"

"Let me be clear, Granger, _Miss_ Granger," he corrected himself. "Stole potion ingredients from my stores in her and Mr. Potter's second year. This resulted in a botched polyjuice potion experiment during which she got herself half turned into a cat. She also got herself petrified trying to figure out who opened the Chamber of Secrets.

"The subsequent year," He droned on as bored as possible. "She and her friends nearly got themselves killed tracking escaped convict Sirius Black had I not stepped into to save them, and Granger assaulted a student in my own house, the same student who came to her aide in this circumstance. In her fifth year, she and Mr. Potter rushed into the Department of Mysteries to face Riddle alone and may have a hand in Dolores Umbridge's unhinging…

"I won't go on, but suffice it to say that aside from being an excellent student, she with her friends were a constant thorn in my side until her final year; I took more points from Gryffindor due to the three of them and Mr. Longbottom than any person in their house, their year, possibly the entire school. So the answer to your question is no. Even if I had a bias and even if it I would allow such a thing to interfere with my perception of such a clear and serious situation, it would not be in favor of Miss Granger." He lied.

"Thank you, professor. This court thanks you for your time and for your sacrifice." She looked at him seriously. He wanted to through it back in her face. His sacrifice indeed! They had no idea. "You may go."

Blood boiling, he threw them another glare as he left. Potter was no where to be found, but he was going to track that boy down and give him a piece of his mind…

* * *

He knocked impatiently on the door to 12 Grimmauld Place. When it opened, he barged inside without invitation. Ron Weasley moved aside.

"Yeah, come on in…" He mumbled, shutting the door. "Harry's upstairs in the den."

Harry Potter was lounging in a fat chair with his feet on the table, bottle in hand. Severus crossed the room, took the bottle and tossed it in the fire without comment.

"Hey!" Potter protested without moving.

"Where were you?"

"I left after Hermione's."

"She was pretty torn up." Weasley explained.

Of course. They would have been at least as hard on her, and she had to face her attacker at the same time, he realized. At least her friend had been there.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Potter stood, mistaking his concern for distress. "Was it bad?"

"Never mind. Tell me about Miss Granger." Severus took a seat on the sofa. "What did they ask her?"

Harry shrugged, retaking his seat. Weasley sat at the other end of the sofa. "It was bad. They tried to make it out like," he lowered his voice. "Like she was mad. Paranoid maybe. Asked her a bunch of unrelated things."

"Did they ask if the two of us were carrying on romantically whilst she was a student?"

His green eyes darted to his friend only a second before he shook his head no. "I take it that was yours?"

He nodded once.

"Blimey." Weasley remarked.

"I need to know exactly what they asked and how. Forthright's barrister must have offered another theory, hence the questions."

"In mine," Potter said. "They clearly wondered if I flew off the handle, attacked the bastard because I discovered his background."

"Then they think I was involved with Granger, so I took her side." Severus thought aloud.

"They sort of implied she might have been sleeping with Rex before, so I'm sure that was his story." Ron offered.

"Yes, they seemed to be interested in why we thought her being tied up and slapped was not consensual." Potter snarled.

Weasley cracked his knuckles.

"We'll know more after the finish interviewing everyone tomorrow." Potter said as the door swung open.

Miss Granger sauntered in smiling, wobbly a little at the knees. She had a playful smile on her lips and her eyes gleamed as she swung a nearly empty bottle of wine at her hips. Her robe was open, little silk shorts and thin light pink top visible underneath.

"What are we talking about?" She asked, lifting the bottle to her lips. They wrapped around it as she drank leaving them wet and red.

"Theories." Potter answered skeptically, raising one eyebrow at his friend. Ron shot Severus an apologetic glance. _Really_, she was a little drunk. It was not the end of the world.

"On why they were more interested in implying you were mad and I was a pervert than on what Mr. Forthright did." Severus told her.

"They called you a pervert?" She shook her head, hair falling into it. She brushed it away impatiently. He offered her a small smile as Weasley stood.

"Hermione, why don't you lie down?" He proposed, taking the bottle, as if embarrassed by her unwinding when Severus had seen that boy nearly unintelligible after a quidditch win.

"Okay." She agreed easily. Then to their surprise, she pranced over to the couch and lied down, placing her head on his lap and closing her eyes. Perhaps she was more effected than he thought.

He steeled his expression, and his body, from reacting to the heat of her breath on his thigh, her hair sprawled across his lap.

"Miss Granger," He slipped a hand under her arm. She made a small noise of protest. "Your shoulder will get sore." He said quietly, readjusting her position to be less uncomfortable for them both and setting a small pillow under her, between the two of them. She nestled against him.

Harry stared at him astonished that he had not stood in fright and thrown her onto the floor. Perhaps he should have. He kept his hands awkwardly away from his body to keep from touching her as she slept on him.

He looked as trapped as possible at Potter who snorted with laughter. Weasley tried to eat his own lips to keep from laughing under his glare.

"Boy, your day gets better and better." The redhead muttered, giggling at his expense.

The doorbell rang. "Ron can you get that? I think Severus is…stuck."

Weasley snorted and went to answer the door.

"Why in the hell did they accuse me of setting up the whole thing to look a hero?" Draco demanded, losing his cool.

"Mr. Malfoy, lower your voice, please." Three faces gawked at Severus. He knew how unusual he looked, but he was at a loss of how to escape out from under and already upset Hermione Granger. "If Miss Granger wakes," he explained, using her surname. "I do not know if she will scream at us or cry, but either way there will be suffering."

Draco nodded, looking relieved at his reasoning.

"They said I attacked him, put blame on him to take him down out of vengeance." Potter explained, which seemed to cool Malfoy a bit.

"They said I was bias out of jealousy." Weasley admitted.

"They claimed Hermione was either off her rocker or into kinky sex."

"Yes, they kept asking how I knew she did not want it." Draco said with disgust.

"What did you say?" Potter asked.

"That I've heard people tortured and I heard women who wanted it a little rough, and I knew the difference."

"Not bad."

"What about you?" Draco nodded to his mentor.

"I was accused of being blinded by my passion for Miss Granger." He drawled.

Draco looked as if someone pulled his nose. "Well, then, looks as if they have nothing." He announced. "If the little slug has a dozen conspiracy theories and his best one is pure, little Granger was whoring around and into being tied up and tortured after having been actually tied up and tortured… then we should be hearing it's over soon."

Severus nodded in agreement, relieved as Draco looked.

"Drink?" Potter asked. "I think Hermione finished off most of the wine.

"No, thank you." He wrinkled his nose. "I better be going. Severus, mother and I would like to invite you to dinner tomorrow evening."

"I accept."

"See you then." He added. "Potter."

He was gone.

"Still rude to me." Weasley muttered.

"Do you think one of you might be steady enough to manage her to her bed?" Severus sighed.

Potter raised his wand. "Don't levicorpus her! She's not a corpse." He snapped.

"Oi! Hermione." Weasley called. She jolted. He winced. As he feared, she seemed to have forgotten falling sleep on him.

"Really," he stood, lifting her and shaking the hair from his face. "It's incredible how either of you manage to win favor with a female, tactless dunderheads that you are." A sleepy Hermione giggled against his chest. "Her room?" He asked annoyed.

"At the top. White door." Potter blurted, and they watched him carry her up as if he were on a tightrope. He laid her on her bed and left the room abruptly, shutting the door without a sound.

* * *

A/N: Trying to contain my excitement about this chapter, really I am. Please let me know if enjoyed it too. Thoughts on Rex? The moment at the end there? A lot more happened this chapter than last time, and more is to come... Can't wait to post the next chapter and all it's surprises.

Yours,

Elsie


	26. Whisked

Disclaimer: See previous.

* * *

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to: funkybluelovin, jamcreynolds, and Amarenima Redwood. (Yes, still more to come!) Since you guys took time to review more than last time, as more than one person requested: here's a special Halloween update. Tricks _and_ treats in this one... Happy All Hallows Eve and Dias des los Muertos!  
(On a personal note, today is the birthday of my late best friend of nearly 14 years, Flowers the dachshund, so this is also for her: love you, babygirl).

* * *

Chapter 26: Whisked

* * *

Hermione plodded downstairs in her favorite pink pajamas and silky, black and pink robe. When she walked in, the boys were sitting close together at the end of the table, drinking coffee. They hushed when she entered, the pep back in her step. Good friends and some very good wine had gotten her over the disaster that was the trial.

She was sure Severus had done better than she had, but regardless what had happened behind those closed doors, it was out of her hands. She need not see Rex anymore either way now that school was over for her. Things were going well, she had to admit. She had her two best friends, plus Ginny, and now Luna and Severus as well. She had a place to stay, a pleasant job, some great opportunities with editing and was starting school in the fall.

Absentmindedly, she hummed while she made tea and toast.

"Are you feeling alright?" Harry watched her sideways as she poured herself some tea.

"Yes. Honestly you two, I'm fine." She set back the kettle, smiling at them. "You can stop looking at me as if I'm going to explode."

"Hermione," Harry said carefully. The boys exchanged a look.

"What, what is it? Have they sent the verdict?" She set down her cup, knees weakening.

"You fell asleep yesterday…"

"Yes, I'm aware."

"On Snape's _lap._" Harry clarified.

"I… _what_?"

They nodded fearfully.

"I—oh, God." She sat, suddenly remembering. "Oh god, oh god, oh god. I have to work with him tomorrow."

"He was pretty clam about it." Ron offered. Harry nodded.

"Oh, wait no I don't. He has something else to do."

"What?"

She shrugged, somewhat relieved and at the same time bothered that she'd have to wait another week to gauge his response.

"Has anything come yet?" She pulled her feet up into her chair.

They exchanged another look, then shook their heads. "Not yet."

"Any leads on Carrow?" She tried.

"Nothing. He's lying in wait."

"Probably planning something." She thought aloud, biting her toast. Only the people she cared for most would be his prime targets. It made her stomach curl into knots.

"We'll get him." Ron said with great confidence. She tried to nod with confidence as well. The tea was hot and strong with a touch of honey.

"Heard from Ginny?"

They looked at each other, shook their heads in the negative.

"We should probably go into work. You opening the shop today?"

"No. Mr. Welling insists I take the day." She sighed unhappily.

"I'll see what I can find out." Harry promised.

"See you later." Ron wished her.

"Have a good day." She smiled at them. "Be safe."

* * *

She did not want to sit around the house all day, but she had no work, no things to prepare for Severus, no homework, and Luna was off chasing a nonexistent being. Despite her desire, that was exactly where she was: alone and so bored she had nothing to do but await the verdict.

It would just have to be guilty though, wouldn't it? There were so many witnesses, all of them reliable. Certainly they could confirm the facts behind his apparent motive: that his mother was pureblood killed by Moody.

But since they had not asked about the rings…maybe they had not been able to connect them to Rex and the evidence was inadmissible.

And since she had not properly reported to St. Mungos or the Hogwart's official healer for her injuries, they were not properly documented. All the witnesses only knew what she told them, and they were friends of hers...

Except Draco. Again, she was surprisingly grateful for him being the one to find her. He had no reason to lie for her, or help her, or attack Rex. But he had barely salvaged his reputation recently, and he still had their mark on his arm, his father in prison, regardless of who vouched for him. Frustrated, she let out something between a sigh and grunt, determined to make her day somehow productive. She could not sit around torturing herself all day with what the verdict might be. Whatever it would be, she could not affect it now and would not find out any sooner by worrying.

First, she got ahead on her work for the next article with Luna and put some effort into what she and Severus had gone over, finishing what he had hoped to do in a month. She finished reading the book she got from work. Then, she cleaned her room from top to bottom.

It was only lunch time. Still no word from Harry or the court.

Using what she had learned from Severus, she entered her mind and memory of her mom making cherry lemonade. _Her mother was in the white kitchen, squeezing lemons…two pints…water…sugar…then the cherries. Hermione watched her mother lick her finger. The red lingered on the bottom of the glass pitcher until she stirred it in with a metal spoon, turning the mixture pink. She could even taste the tart yet sweet elixir. _

She was able to recall the entire recipe surprisingly, so she made some. The whole time, she was thinking of Severus' words: "It's important to remember the good parts." Trying her hand at lunch, she did an acceptable job off both egg and tuna salad and put some away for the boys, having a sandwich.

Still no word. If they let him go, she wondered, would he come by the store? Everyone did. Would he be more angry? Again, she told herself to stop thinking about it.

Next, she summoned the boys' laundry, set all the dishes to wash, and cleaned the den they had covered with their mess—bottles, boxes, socks and papers. She made the beds, changed the sheets, alphabetized the books, even dusted. She set the floors to sweeping, then mopping. It was easy with magic.

She was done by four o'clock. It would still be hours before the boys returned. No news was good news, she told herself, STOP thinking about it. 'It won't help.'

After a long bath, she spent a while looking at herself in the mirror. Her teeth were straight, white, but bigger than she would like. Her hair was a mess, though it smelled nice. Her skin was decent, she supposed, and she wasn't poorly shaped. Her eyes were just so….boring, nothing striking like Harry's green ones...

Not for the first time, she wished she were prettier- no _beautiful_, the kind of beautiful that made people stare when she walked into a room. People like Severus, if she were honest.

Harry and Ron were late. If she felt like hearing the hell she'd catch for it, she would go for a walk she was so ancy. She was sitting in the kitchen waiting, working on her third cup of tea, when they stumbled from the fireplace looking exhausted.

"I wanted to tell you before they send it." Harry panted. "The verdict…"

* * *

Severus was feeling sorry for himself. First because that witch had really trapped him under her drunken, little head. If she had not been such a blushing, slightly incapacitated, picture of innocence, he would have rolled her onto the floor. Or at least, he told himself as much. It was alright for her—she had gone to sleep! Leaving him to deal with the compromising situation and the stares of her friends. He reminded himself to take his revenge on his little friend...

At the moment, however, he had more pressing matters, matters which also let him wallow in self-pity. He had agreed to dinner at Malfoy Manor that evening. And dinner at Malfoy Manor was no casual affair. Severus had to take some time to prepare himself. He hated that, all the showering and shaving and ironing.

Yet again, he felt trapped, this time by obligation rather than a frizzy head, but it hardly mattered. He was to spend the evening in the place had spent many pleasant nights and some unbelievably horrid. He had wanted little to do with his old friends after the final battle, though they constantly sent gifts; there were sympathies there, surely, but also a great deal of hatred for getting him into it all and discomfort at their…tastes. For years, he had wanted nothing more than to refuse their invitations, but they were so grateful for his presence, now as much as ever. In fact, since Lucius had been sent to Azkaban, Narcissa somehow seemed to think she was owed Severus' presence. But, it was not just helpful to their new status; it was also a comfort of what they were used to, so few were those as of late.

Draco had been a child in all this and had rightly redeemed himself, as Severus had, so he could not refuse him. Draco needed him, so he put on the damned vest, the heavy coat in the summer heat, and the blasted cufflinks with his father's initials and went to the Manor.

"Severus, so pleased you could join us. Good to see an old face." Narcissa kissed his cheek in welcome.

"Is it so old?" He asked.

She laughed. "Distinguished."

The woman had once been beautiful, but the loss of her husband and status had been hard on her. There were lines that would never go away, grey she could not dye quick enough.

"Severus!" Draco shook his hand warmly, apparating into the foyer from upstairs as he buttoned his sleeves. "Thank you for coming. They are making a lovely meal this evening." The young man promised. "Have you met mother's cousin Aurelia?"

"I think we have met once before." He kissed her hand, a woman who looked much like Narcissa, but younger.

"Twice before." She corrected him with a French accent.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes upwards. Mrs. Malfoy's attempts at matchmaking were as transparent as her crystal chandelier as they sat along the long, white table.

The cousin was attractive, naturally, icy blue eyes and white blonde hair arranged perfectly. Actually, it was unusually solid and still, he noticed. Not a strand fell out of place as they ate. It was a bit unnerving, really.

Her lips were full, puckered, heart-shaped almost he observed as she chatted easily and politely with him. She did not chew those lips, would not dare, he reckoned. Where Granger would have playfully insulted him, Aurelia complimented him on his recent publication, asked him attentively of his work now, nodding politely and not badgering him with questions.

The conversation was superficial, but still a welcome distraction from the fact he was at that moment sitting in the same room where he had feasted alongside werewolves and Riddle and a man-eating serpent. To her credit, Mrs. Malfoy had replaced the table and changed the decor. He still had little of an appetite though the meal was very fine and rich, something French. Hermione would have extended a compliment specifically to the house elves on the creamy soup. Narcissa would have promptly died.

He nearly snorted into his potage.

"Draco was telling me of the ordeal of having to testify for that…muggleborn Hermione Granger." Narcissa said for his benefit. 'Speak of the devil,' he thought.

"Oh yes, I read her article in that peculiar magazine…" Aurelia noted. "She spent the whole interview talking about elves. Strange."

"Strange indeed." Narcissa agreed with her cousin.

"She is an odd young woman." Draco conceded, carefully eyeing his mentor. "But she always was very smart. Are you still working with her, Severus?" Draco seemed to enjoy using his former teacher's name as much as Potter did.

"I am."

"On what?" Narcissa asked.

"A potions text."

"Well," She seemed to accept it. "It will be the authority."

"Here, here." Draco agreed.

He smirked. To think how condescending she had been on his first nights there, with his muggle name and unthinkable poverty. Now, she flattered him.

"What on earth do you need that girl's help for?"

"She's an apt editor." He explained.

"Is she pretty?" Aurelia asked, smiling coyly as she sipped her white wine that did not stain her mouth.

"Yes." He answered automatically.

"No." Draco said at the same time. The young man balked at him.

"Not nearly as beautiful as the ladies present." Severus recovered, wetting his dry mouth with his own drink. After he swallowed, it only felt dryer. The meal continued with him trying to contribute. At least dinner was easy for him that evening.

"Don't you think so, Severus?" Narcissa was asking him.

"Hmm? I couldn't say." He answered darkly, unsure what he would be agreeing to.

"Oh, Severus," Narcissa laughed. "You sound so bored with us."

"Forgive me, I am tired."

"Well, it is late. Perhaps we should retire. It is a pity Lucius is not here to go into the study with you,"

"Mother," Draco said warningly or pleadingly, he wasn't sure.

"But we will have him back soon enough." She finished with confidence.

Draco looked down at the carpet as they left their seats.

"Will he come back soon since he, what is the word, defected?" Aurelia asked as Severus politely led her into the sitting room. She had obviously been promised an evening with a war hero.

"Much sooner than he would have had he not. Severus will see to it, won't you Severus?" Narcissa affirmed.

"I'll do my best." He told her for the hundredth time. He would not fall prey to her guilt mongering.

"And now that Draco has a suitable position and has saved that mud—that Granger girl, he will soon have the influence to speed things along." She commented with confidence.

"Of course." Aurelia agreed, though she sounded even less confident than Draco looked leaning on the fireplace over the mantel in the sitting room. It was so civilized and so, well, lavender, for a room once used to torture…screaming students like Luna Lovegood, Miss Granger.

Why was he thinking of that damned woman again?!

He forced himself to remain in his seat for a few moments while Aurelia sat next to him, fanning herself and taking every opportunity to lay her bejeweled hand on his knee or arm. She smelled strongly a very nice perfume.

"I'm afraid I'm needed somewhere early in the morning." He stood after a half hour. "Thank you for dinner and the pleasure of your company." He bowed his head to them, crossing to Draco and shaking his hand. His grey eyes looked less lonely then.

"I shall walk you out." Aurelia offered. There was no polite way to reject her, so he took her arm, spying Narcissa's smirk.

He supposed it was safe enough as they stepped out into the warm night, a tad humid. She pressed her body close to him as they walked, not releasing his arm. It was not as if she would throw herself on him on the lawn, he figured.

"My cousin tells me how wonderful you have been to her son through all this." He said nothing. "She says you are a great and powerful man." She stopped, turning to face him. She touched one of her many-ringed fingers to his cheek. "So powerful."

Well, he was wrong. The moment he opened his mouth to set her straight, she was sucking at his neck like a little vampire. Her long nails dug into his shoulders, and he nearly choked on her perfume. She made a soft gasping sound, pressing against his crotch. He had gone so long without being able to act on his desires he was not one to be easily overtaken by them. And even if he had entertained the idea of letting her have her way with him, getting some release eve if it was on the Malfoy's lawn, feeling his genitals in the clutches of those…talons, he found it easy to pry her away.

"Forgive me," He implored, placing her hands at her sides. "I am… seeing someone." He lied. "Sadly, this cannot continue. Goodnight, Miss Black." Her pretty face was stunned.

He strode a few paces, swatting a bug, and apparated.

* * *

He was greeted by something even more unsettling than the unwanted affections of Malfoy's cousin. A letter had arrived from Granger—Hermione.

_Dear Severus,_

_You may have heard but to assure you don't learn about it in the Prophet, Rex was convicted. He'll be going to Azkaban. Since he was no a Death Eater and did not intend to kill anyone nor did he do any, as they put it "lasting harm" he will only be serving a few years. They have to let me know when he's released._

_Hermione_

No lasting harm? He thought angrily, throwing the note into the fire. A few years for a physical assault, plotted out, failed murder attempt with those rings, and an attempted rape left no lasting harm? It was an outrage. And it was going to get worse.

_The Prophet_ was bound to report whatever wild theory Forthright had circulated, and it would no doubt disparage her. A storm was about to crash on her, after everything she had been through, and it infuriated him.

A few years? A few years?! It was inexcusable. Justice indeed.

It would not do pacing any further or trying to sleep. He had to see her. He was nearly flooing into their dining room in London when he thought better of it, grabbing parchment, quill, and ink.

_Hermione,_

_Please come see me tomorrow. Plans canceled. _

_Severus_

Of course, then he had to actually cancel his plans for the next day. No great loss.

* * *

She had huffed and puffed for the final time when he abandoned his books and papers with a dramatic flourish, shooting her a harsh look.

"Sorry." Granger offered from the settee, the second place she'd attempted to work since she arrived. He could not focus with her fidgeting. He suspected she was upset about the verdict for which he could not blame her. They had yet to discuss it, or anything really, sticking to their new routine. He had not forgotten he owed her something…

He rounded the couch without her paying attention. She was tickling her own chin thoughtfully with her quill. She did not notice he had moved to stand behind her. His lips twitched wickedly as his hands came down on her shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. She jumped a little, hitching in a breath.

Inch by inch, he massaged her stiff shoulders. Second by second, he felt her relax as kneading the tense arches became easier. He leaned down closer to her ear, his revenge nearly exacted, and said lowly, "You need to relax."

"I'm trying." She managed.

His thumbs made circles in one direction then the other. She abandoned her work completely, dropping it just as her head went slightly wobbly. Her eyes drooped closed. She sighed. He rubbed harder, and she let slip a little moan. She was blushing, he could tell. He smirked, continuing his careful ministrations at the base of her neck, working out a knot.

He elicited another heavy sigh that turned into an involuntary moan as he kneaded the tops of her shoulder blades. Her whole body had loosened. Her head tilted back again, eyes closed.

He smiled widely, nearly satisfied as his own hands began to protest and Hermione bordered between becoming aroused and falling asleep.

If she was already this tense, he dreaded her seeing the paper that would report Rex's verdict. He needed to get her away from the chaos that was about erupt, distract her. A terrible idea popped into his head.

He knew he shouldn't ask. She would probably politely decline, or worse, she might accept. The only thing certain was how poor of an idea it was, yet it was the only one he had, so returning to his seat, he heard himself slowly speak.

"Hermione,"

"Yes? What is it?" She seemed unnerved at his careful tone.

"I'm being asked to speak on the Recovery Draught at the Healers and Potion Makers Convention."

"That's wonderful!" She interrupted. He gave her a look to let her know he wasn't finished. "Sorry." She offered politely.

He nodded in acknowledgment and continued. "They will be sending me a portkey to the location and will be providing room and board for the weekend." Here it was; he was about to cross a line. "Should I like to bring someone to accompany me, I may. I would ask no one else. If you would like to and can spare the entire week—"

She nearly squealed. "You mean I could go to all the lectures?"

He nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. So he was going to whisk her away... "Indeed." He told her.

"Oh, that would be wonderful." There was real excitement in her eyes at the prospect. Certainly, the invitation list was short, but he never expected anyone to share his enthusiasm on this subject. "You really think you could stand having me the whole weekend?" She asked.

"I'll endure." He smiled slightly.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading! So what did you think of the verdict? Snape's set up? His revenge... and who is ready for this trip?! Please review, and I'll post more soon.

Just for fun: ten points to anyone who can name the Halloween films these lines are from:

-00-

"Why would the Master give us candy?"

"Because he is not our Master, and these are not hobgoblins. All Hallows Eve has become a night of frolic where children wear costumes and run amuck!"

-00-

"There are good witches and bad witches. A bad witch lived in that house two hundred years ago, and a bad one lives there now..."

-00-

"I lied! I do have a boyfriend. He's big and he plays football and he'll kick the shit out of you!'

-00-

"TROLL in the dungeon! Troll in the dungeon! Thought you ought to know."

-00-

Don't forget to include your house if you want to play. I'll let you know the score!

Yours,

Elsie


	27. Weekend

Disclaimer: Not mine.

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A/N: Okay, results for the trivia- thanks for playing! Maybe we'll do it again. They were from Hocus Pocus, Double Double Toil and Trouble, Scream, and Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Ahem, ahem (in Dumbledore voice) "The points stand thus: third place to Ravenclaw with two points. Tied in second place are Gryffindor and Hufflepuff house with three points each, and ahead by one point...Slytherin! Also, someone asked what house I am: Ravenclaw.

Thanks so much for a great response to the last chapter! Jumping in time a bit to their weekend away...a bit short, but fun-filled I think ;) It's for RhondaBush, kreeblimsabs, and Julie . fjad.

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Chapter 27: Weekend

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"It's beautiful!" Hermione took in the room, the wide windows overlooking the sea. She could see boats trolling along the horizon, birds dotting the sky, rocks reaching into the hands of the white, frothing waves.

The room itself was spacious, bigger than Severus' den or his room at Hogwarts, much bigger than her room at Grim. There was a huge, white bed in the center, complete with a down-y looking comforter and a mountain of pillows, lined by massive bed posts. _A_ huge bed. Singular.

He spotted it as well. "I'll go and tell them." He growled from behind her. "I told them a room for two…"

"Oh, it's fine, Severus." She dropped her bags, moving to the window. "It's not as if I haven't been in your bed before." She teased, seeing his face go slack with shock in the reflection in the glass. "Besides, if we have to, I think we can transform it into two beds. Come look at this view!"

She heard his footfalls behind her as she stared hungrily at the diming sky, drinking in the cool green and blue of the water and grey pink of the fading sky, the swaying trees and sand for a moment until she turned to look at him. He stood like a ship mast, solid and regal, gazing out at the horizon. He offered her a weak smile.

"Have you ever been here before?"

He shook his head.

"I can't wait until tomorrow. So many fascinating speakers from all over the world!"

"Do you every stop talking?" He asked with no real venom.

She spun on her heel. "As you wish, potions _master_. I'm just going to have a quick bath before the supper, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." He drawled.

"I'll just be a minute so, you will have plenty of time to use the shower if you want. No worries."

He sighed in response. She grabbed her makeup and hair bag from Ginny and her dress for the evening and hid in the palatial bathroom, all white with gold fixtures. Plush white towels and matching robes were hung expectantly on gold hooks. Salts and oils sat by the bath.

Torn between wanting to soak and wanting to hurry, she hit somewhere in between, giving Severus some quiet time. She really did not want to annoy him after he had been so kind as to take her with him to this prestigious event. And it came at such a good time too. She wondered a little, as she dried off and did her hair and makeup, if he had done so on purpose, but that gesture was so caring and… generous. The convention was a formal affair, and only a few potion makers and healers, the very elite, were invited each year. Until his death, Nicholas Flammel had been a regular. Even Slughorn had only been a handful of times over the years and never asked to speak.

For the occasion, Severus was wearing full formal dress robes, and they looked very nice. _Very_ nice.

The vest clung to his broad chest, buttoned neatly. The emerald fabric was dark in color but with just enough sheen, like his hair. His locks were not even a tad oily, and she wished the boys could see. He looked like a shampoo commercial, and he smelled amazing as well she had noted as they were forced to stand very close to hold the portkey, which was a lovely snow globe souvenir. Magic kept the sands swirling around a palm tree and building.

_When they landed, she had found herself on unsteady footing, namely a sand dune, and found herself even closer to the good professor, as he had to scoop her up in one arm to keep her from tumbling down. He straightened her, staring as the wind whipped back her hair and tangled it. She smiled shyly feeling his dark eyes soak her in, the sea beside her. It was amazing luck that it wasn't blowing the hair into her mouth and eyes. She supposed she might look alright, fabric of her flapper style dress blown against her. _

_He turned promptly and went towards the Wizard's Palm Hotel—one of the few wizard only establishments in the world, a first class hotel. She nearly gasped looking at it: a massive structure of the most interesting design, with some many patios, veranda, balconies and open windows, white curtains swaying the breeze. It was a blinding white and light blue with dark blue diamond shaped pattern details. _

_Trudging towards the hotel entrance from its private stretch of beach proved dangerous in high heels. __He had looked back, his long legs keeping him ahead of her. "Do you need help?"_

_"__I can do it." She had insisted, holding her arms out for balance as her heels sank into the soil. "I didn't expect to apparate onto sand." _

_"__Aren't you meant to expect the unexpected?"_

_"__In war." She said, avoiding a soggy spot. "We are not at war."_

_"__You look like you're at war. You look like you're navigating muggle land mines." He sighed, irritated. "If you don't let me help you, we are going to be late to check in." _

_"__Oh, alright." She did not fancy getting covered in sand or worse and walk into such a nice hotel barefoot, beach or no, but she supposed Snape would leave her behind if she did not strip off the heels, which was difficult in her current position as the little black straps tied up her calve. __She was not able to untie them before she was swept up into his arms and carried gallantly over the sands. He had said nothing as he had set her back town upon the mosaic tiles of the Wizard's Palm Hotel's verandah. _

Blushing at the memory, she sunk to her chin in the bubble bath. She pictured him, in that flattering suit, grabbing her the way he had on the beach, imagined crawling under those light, white sheets next to him. Maybe he would sleep shirtless.

And maybe she would lean over him, watching his form in the moonlight, tickling his cheek with her finger. He would wake angrily, but she would silence him with a kiss. If she were a very, very lucky girl, he would kiss her back, violently like that night in his office when she should have had detention.

She imagined his deep voice rumbling through the sheets and the dark. 'How very naughty, Miss Granger. Fifty points from Gryffindor.'

'But sir, I'm not at Hogwarts anymore.'

'Oh you're not are you? Then, I'll just have to find a new way to punish you for your wickedness.' He might hiss into her ear, making her body arch instinctively forward.

She snapped out of it. She was not, NOT, fantasizing about Snape—_Severus_—while he was in the next room. She leapt out of the tub as if something bit her and stumbled.

"Are you alright?" He asked from the other side of the door.

"Yes, fine!" She yelped, paling. Had he been standing just outside? Had she said anything, sighed? Oh gods…

In a hurry, she got dressed and pulled up her hair into a do she learned from _Witch Weekly_ and magic-ed on some light makeup; it did not look as good as when she did it by hand, but it would have to do. She had probably been in there a while.

Finished, she practically fled the bathroom, rushing past him with her bundle of clothes. "All finished!"

* * *

Severus Snape survived dinner. He was not used to being flattered with attention, but at least the company had half a brain. Granger's near constant excited babbling was unleashed upon more willing partners, and she managed to keep most of the annoying ones from badgering him with questions.

One bloke, Master Whippet they called him, was obnoxiously full of himself and spent the evening making snide comments and flirting shamelessly with Miss Granger. It was worsened by the man's love of martinis. It was worsened even more by dessert. Hermione was oblivious to the fact that the way she ate chocolate covered strawberries was suggestively sensual. She slipped the berry in her mouth and licked or sucked off the chocolate before devouring the tip. Honestly, it was worse than the way she ate those éclairs.

He had glared at her.

Afterwards, they headed back upstairs to their single room, the one with one giant bed she had not let him demand be replaced. Granted, she was being very adult about it, but he rather wished she was not. At least she knew he had not intended the arrangement.

"That was exhausting." She huffed, hopping in on one foot as she was already trying to remove her heel the moment she was across the threshold, her hair falling from its… whatever it was called.

"Indeed."

"Why were you glaring at me at dinner?" She asked, sitting with her leg perched, chin resting on her knee as she unwound the black strings from her lean calf muscle.

"Never mind." He said darkly, wondering if she realized how improper her posture was with her leg so high up in that dress.

He tried to split the bed magically.

"I don't bite you know." Her good mood persisted.

"I do." He joked, procuring a sharp laugh from her. His lips twitched into a smile as well.

Two identical beds, both still rather large and with too many pillows, sat before them.

"Nice magic." She complimented. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go straight to bed. If you want to stay up and read, the light won't bother me." It was thoughtful of her, but her consideration ended there. She left the bathroom door cracked as she tugged off her dress, slipping on a long sleep shirt.

"Goodnight." She bid him, crawling into her bed.

"Goodnight." He smiled, reading his book. She moaned in her sleep, forcing him to cast a muffilato and abandon his book.

The next morning, she was even more annoying than usual, the sunlight illuminating her skin as she stood at the window with her tea.

"Aren't there curtains?" He growled, covering his head.

She laughed softly. "It's beautiful." She repeated.

"Don't you have another adjective?"

"Glorious." She said softly. He peeked out to find she had a halo burning around her head. He was not sure if it was caused by her frizzy hair or the light of the sunrise behind her. Maybe both.

"Indeed." He caught himself. Luckily, she knew he was talking about the sunrise. He disappeared again under the blankets, turning on his other side.

"I know what's wrong with you." She said from behind him. "I'm sure they accommodate vampires here."

He threw off his covers. "You're hilarious."

* * *

He was among one of the first to present, and his deep, slow voice was perfect for keeping the attention of every apt mind in the room. She applauded him excitedly along with everyone else when he finished. He seemed to be unable to do anything but glare at them, making her shake her head with a grin.

That was until she felt that dastardly Master Whippet squeezing her knee. She slapped him good.

The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough as the pair attended the most fascinating lectures. One healer was working on developing the equivalent of an adrenaline shot to the heart to restart it but in potion form... incomplete as of yet, but promising. She desperately hoped they were seated near her at were questions about muggle medicine and healing experiments she was simply dying to ask.

Severus tolerated her enthusiasm remarkably well. For instance, as they read the list of lecture to take place with the ballrooms after lunch, she pointed to one on the theory and history behind the Wolfsbane potion.

"I want to go to that one."

"I've seen it." He said.

"Oh okay, well maybe I could go and we could meet up—"

He sighed. "We'll go to that one."

"You don't have to…"

"I know that." He said through his teeth. He headed straight for the Wolfsbane lecture and only sulked and glared through half of it without comment.

She took his hand briefly afterward as they headed to the stairs. "Thank you. It was a good one."

* * *

"I think you'll win." She told him, watching some people who had too much to drink making fools of themselves on the dance floor.

"I think I won't." He told her honestly. "The fertility treatment potion is far more…pleasant. Its results are much more specific. Master Haki has been working on it for years."

She shook her head in disagreement. "Yours is unlike anything else out there, and it came from such a human place. You're a hero, healing people's minds. They can't put baby-making above that."

He raised an eyebrow. "Baby-making?"

"Uh-hm." She told him coyly watching the room.

"Babies are hard to beat."

She snorted at his poor choice of words.

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

"I do." She laughed lightly. "Want to bet on it?" She challenged.

"That I will win?"

She nodded.

"And what do I get if I win?" He asked.

"Whatever you want." She shrugged and if he was not mistaken smirked as she looked at the dance floor.

"I see. And if you win?"

She thought for a moment, sipping her drink. "Then, you owe me dinner."

He raised an eyebrow. Hermione Granger was sitting at a table with him at some abominable social on the last evening and she was flirting. Several men in the room were looking at her—a potions convention had few so young or radiant, and women at all were a minority. Yet she was perfectly content to sit at a corner table as he obligatorily attended, sipping her drink with a little cherry in it.

"I take your bet, Miss Granger." He nodded. "Do you think we can escape yet?"

"Maybe." She grabbed her bag, no more keen on these events than he was, but someone with a bowtie stopped her.

"May I have this dance?" He asked, grinning broadly.

"Oh, well, er," She glanced at him. He did not know why she did that. She was perfectly free to do as she wished. "I suppose." She smiled politely. The young man's smile, well younger than Severus, became if possible even wider and goofier.

Severus looked at the other side of the room as the tall man in the bowtie took her to the dance floor. Only when the quick number was over did he look up to see Hermione still being polite, shooting him another glance, but the other man was enthusiastic. Very enthusiastic.

Even when she carefully maneuvered some distance between them, the guy did not take the hint. He appeared to be talking loudly and kept reaching for her waist. The sight made Severus shift uncomfortably. It took only one more glance to him as the song changed to a slow one for him to make it to one of his least favorite places: the dance floor.

"I'm cutting in." He stepped his solid form between the two, making Hermione squeeze her lips together to keep from giggling. He put a hand barely on her back, the other holding her hand, and moved to a slow song.

"That was very rude." She smirked.

"You're welcome." He false sneered.

"Thank you." She bowed her head, perhaps a bit tired, and rested it on his chest. He looked up at once, gripping her hand a little tighter as they spun.

"I like this song." She said into his chest.

"Do you?"

She nodded, her hair coming free from the style she had put a lot of work into, clinging against his dress robes.

"Sleepy?" He rested his chin just above her head.

"I am."

"Want to go to bed?" It was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He cringed.

"Well, I hoped to see the beach before we left…" She could not fight the yawn she tried to bury in his chest.

"Come." He said, pulling away from her and dragging her out by the hand.

He strode quickly, unthinkingly out across the colored stone patio onto the sand. Her heels were vanished to her hand, he noted, as he tugged her out under the moon, waves rushing up and retreating, rushing and retreating.

She gasped, naively and romantically and absolutely unbearably. "It's—" She began.

He rolled his eyes. "Don't say beautiful again."

"It's exquisite." The moon was even better on her skin than the sun, more fitting. The shadows complimented her profile, and her face was peaceful, smiling out at the waves. She let her head droop onto his shoulder and he commanded his eyes forward.

"Truly." He fastened his hands behind him, back straight as if at attention.

"You know, we did not have to come right out here _now_."

"Safer now." He said quietly.

"Why is that?"

"No sunlight."

She chuckled, still touching his shoulder. "I won't tell anyone, you know?" She looked up at him. "Your secret."

"What is that?" He asked, skeptical. She turned then, the wind playing with her dress as she headed barefooted back up to bed.

"That you're funny….when you want to be."

* * *

"Open it." He handed her a thick, formal looking envelope as she ate her breakfast by the window.

"What?" She stared at it.

"Just open it!" He snapped. She rolled her eyes, ripping it open.

"Oh my god," She whispered, reading over it twice.

"Are you going to speak?" He demanded at last. She was having trouble forming words and stumbling from the bed to where he sat on the loveseat, his hands in his hair.

"You won…you won. Oh, I just knew you would! You won the - potions award! Oh, Severus!" She launched herself into his arms, hugging around his neck. But he was sitting, so to do so she had to rest her knees on the couch on either side of him.

"I think I'm the one that's supposed to be excited." He murmured into her, his voice tinted with-dare she think it- humor.

"I'm so proud of you," She whispered. She felt his hands wrap around her upper arms and gently push her back to look into her face. Sitting down against his lap, his face was only a couple inches higher as he searched hers. "Congratulations, Severus." She said slowly, evenly. And without giving him a chance to push her away, she pounced. She kissed him.

It was urgent. She wanted as much of him as she could have before he tossed her off his lap and onto the floor, to sit on her bottom, hair knocked into her pink face as he glared down at her, yelled at what had gotten into her... It was passionate, all the adoration she could never voice or express poured into her hot and frenzied kissing. She was already practically attacking his lips when, instinctively, he responded. She raised and lowered herself at her knees in eagerness, just bit back a moan at his tongue massaging her bottom lip.

They moved their faces, changing angles, drawing breath then tasting each other again. He was panting when he took her chin in his fingers and looked at her, his expression unreadable. She bit her lip, trying to brace herself for his rejection.

Very quietly, he murmured, "Miss Granger," She felt a pang at his use of her surname while she sat perched on his lap. "I believe I owe you a dinner."

"I believe you do." She smiled wickedly. His finger ran down a lock of hair, twirled it, and examined it curiously.

She moved closer to him a centimeter at a time, breath by breath. He watched her near in half disbelief. Pausing an inch from his face, their foreheads nearly pressed together, she licked her lips, staring at his.

There was a knock at the door. She hopped off him.

"Sir?" A tentative voice asked through the wood. It was, apparently, time to go down to accept his award. Hers would come later, she thought with a smirk.

* * *

A/N: So what did you think of the Potion Makers and Healer's Convention? I'd love to hear which parts you liked, what you want to see next, and any suggestions you have! Good news is, I seemed to have passed through my writer's block and am in the home stretch of the story (I write several chapters ahead). I was a little surprised. Wonder if you will be too...

Yours,

Elsie


	28. Wicked

Disclaimer: HP is JKs.

* * *

A/N: Another longer one, and it's for Nebelwand, erin. emery, and DimritiAndRoza Belikov.  
(On a personal note, it has been a hell of a week, including losing the heater, but I wrote anyway- thanks to your reading and marvelous reviews. Today is my little dog Poppy's birthday, so here's one of my favorites a little sooner than I had planned).

* * *

Chapter 28: Wicked

* * *

Hermione Granger had a date with Severus Snape.

She had a date with Severus Snape.

A date.

It did not matter how many times she said it to herself, it still did not sound real.

"You seem like you had a good time." Ron said, surprised.

"I did."

"At a potions convention?" He struggled to fathom.

She sighed, not really bothered. "Yes. It was a very nice hotel on a beach and the lectures were amazing. There was even one you might have liked, 'Performance Enhancing Potions for Quidditch Players: Is It Cheating?'"

"Wicked." He remarked. "Is it?"

"Long story short, not yet. Speaking of quidditch players,"

A tired looking, tousle haired Ginny walked in the kitchen, rubbing her eyes.

"There's our professional chaser!" Ron welcomed.

Ginny offered a sleepy smile. "Coffee?" She asked Hermione, who nodded.

"Hermione was just telling me about the beautiful hotel she stayed in with the slimy git."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "It was the Wizard Palms Hotel." She told her friend.

"Ohh! I saw a spread of that in _Witch Weekly_. I can't believe Snape invited you; you must have really helped him."

"I suppose." She shrugged.

"She's being modest." Ron said.

"Was it beautiful?" Asked Ginny.

Hermione nodded enthusiastically.

"Even with Snape?"

"Even with Snape." She answered.

"Hermione," Ron asked, staring at his bacon and eggs. "He didn't you know flirt with you, did he?"

"Ew, Ron. I'm trying to eat breakfast." Ginny mumbled.

Hermione hid her blush behind her coffee cup. Technically, if she said he had not, she would be correct. Snape had been quiet mostly during their trip, quieter than normal. He had acted annoyed with her at times, downright glaring at her at dinner once for some reason, but otherwise oddly silent. He had saved her on the dance floor, though, true to his character. But pulling her out to the beach was unexpected, as were his playful quips.

No, to be fair, she had been the one to hit on _him_, straddle him on the sofa actually and kiss him madly. She had also tricked him into taking her to dinner, a fact she had purposely failed to mention to her housemates.

"He didn't, did he?" Asked a wide eyed Ginny.

Hermione forced a little snort. "No, of course not, Ginny. Why would Snape be interested in me?" There seemed to be enough truth in her tone there for them to take it as truth.

She tried to hide her slight sadness by looking deep into the swirls of her pumpkin creamer. Not one protest, she noted. Neither of her friends objected, corrected her that there were many reasons any man would find her appealing, even that Snape would be lucky to have such a young lady be interested in him, but alas she once again felt unattractive around her friends.

Could she make herself attractive for the date?

She couldn't ask Ginny for her help because the girl would not rest until she knew who she was going with. There was Luna, yet while pretty she might not have the most reliable instincts on fashion, given her radish ear rings.

Luckily, she had taken to getting _Witch Weekly_. It was good to see the topics and writing style of the other leading selling publications. It was also nice to feel feminine now that she wasn't living out of a tent on the run. Maybe she could ask Harry or George to keep it quiet, help her choose something, but the dress would depend very much on the man she would be wearing it for, and that she could not tell them.

She would have to go shopping alone, but everyone would insist on a companion. So she supposed Luna would be it.

* * *

They were just finishing the article on Draco. Luna had conducted the interview at Malfoy Manor, which Hermione expressed she thought was very brave. Now the rest of the article was to be filled in from her notes by Hermione. They discussed it at length and decided to continue the front page spread ideas featuring war victories. The first was the Death Eaters Caught and At Large up-date. The second would be a short spotlight on Draco Malfoy, Redeemed.

It seemed natural to include Severus with that, but knowing it would upset him, Hermione instead put in a small bit elsewhere in about his award, his presentation at the Potions and Healers Convention. She quoted his article, said a little on his work and reputation, and mentioned some of the other topics and speakers. It was a small bit, but she wasn't going to neglect him entirely, even if he whined.

"Say, Luna," Hermione dusted her chin with the end of her quill, looking carefully over the same finished piece her friend did.

"Hmm?" Luna asked.

"I was wondering do you want to help me with something…something that might be fun?"

"Of course." She set the work aside, eating more of the cheese and spinach quiche she had made them for lunch. "What can I do, Hermione?"

She really was sweet. Hermione offered a brief smile. "Well, I'm not much for shopping unless it's books," she laughed. Luna smiled politely back, slightly curious. Hermione was not sure if it was any different from how she normally looked. "I need to go shopping for something to wear… on a date. Would you go with me? Offer some advice?"

"I'd be glad to, but why didn't you ask Ginny?"

"Well, Ginny and I have slightly different tastes…" Luna was smart. She knew their tastes were vastly different as well. "And, well, she would want to know who, but for now I'd like to keep it discrete. Ginny might not like it." She admitted.

"It's Severus?" Luna asked. If she had swallowed anything, she would have spewed it everywhere.

"How did you—"

"I notice things." She said nonchalantly, sipping her tea. "Don't worry. I won't say anything to anyone. I'd love to go shopping with you, Hermione. I don't get asked much to go on girl outings."

"Great. I'll buy us dinner. I owe you for so many perfect lunches."

"Oh, can we do Italian?"

"Sure."

"Hermione, do you think you could do something for me?"

"Of course."

"I've got a lead on crumple horned snorlacks. I really need to go to Greenland. If I set up the magazine and show you how to work the press, do you think you can run the prints and send them out?"

"Sure." She set down her cup. "Please show me everything."

"It's in the basement."

For the next hour or so, Hermione learned the mechanics of magical publishing, how to bewitch the stacks of paper to copy from the set magazine pages. Then, they magically folded, bound. A slight protective spell, which also made the cover eye catching, was applied. They were put into boxes, stacked and addressed, a number printed on the outside.

"It's an incredible mix of magic and machinery." Hermione gasped, watching it work, producing a finished copy. Her mind was tingling pleasantly with the fresh learning.

"I've been helping father with it since I was young. He liked to run things with as little staff as possible since. I'm so used to it. I never thought much of it."

"You'd rather be a naturalist? Or a healer?"

"I suppose."

"Well then you should. You should do what you like."

"Well, I couldn't leave father's magazine to go."

"You could sell it."

"No."

Hermione looked at her friend thoughtfully. "So shopping tomorrow after work?"

Luna nodded, looking pleased.

* * *

They met in Diagon Alley at Madam Malkins. Hermione looked over the dresses. She had worn a flapper style dress, a couple of skirt suits, and a very formal black dress to the convention. Obviously, a skirt suit would not work, but she did not think dinner constituted a very formal affair. Also, it was summer. Would a sun dress be too casual?

"Er, ideas?" She asked.

"This one." Luna pulled one from the rack. Hermione steeled her expression, quite sure she was about to see some flash of some bright, obnoxious color and possibly a vegetable. Instead, she found a simple pink dress with an empire waist reaching just below her knees, lined at the bottom and the along the high waist with silk. A silk, black ribbon tied in the back.

"It fits you, just the right amount of darkness and maturity with youthful sweetness."

Hermione stared at her friend, stunned into silence for a minute. "Harry's right, you know. You are very insightful."

"Thank you." She smiled in earnest. They would go great with those heels she liked, just balancing out the innocence and temptress, like Luna said. "I guess I'll try it on."

Behind the curtain, Hermione slipped into the dress, hoping alterations wouldn't be too much. When she stepped out, the reflection shocked her. It hugged her figure as if it was made for her, cap sleeves of black lace exposing her shoulders, and it complimented her skin as well, her flushed cheeks. Try as she might, the shop owner could not find one alteration to make. "It fits like it was made for you." For some reason, this made Hermione feel like blushing and grinning at once. She twirled, the under layer of black lace peeking out.

"Then it was meant to be." Luna said peacefully, and for better or worse, Hermione found herself agreeing.

* * *

They were walking down the streets as it cleared for the evening. "Want to go into the muggle side to find some Italian?" Hermione was asking as the noise exploded around them. Fireworks, she thought at first, set off from the joke shop, but then, Luna was screaming. It occurred to Hermione she had never heard Luna scream. She knew those yells, though, desperate and involuntary: tortured yells.

Luna had fallen to the ground, knocking over a cart of dried plants and herbs. Her legs were twitching, bent unnaturally over the tipped cart. Branches were sticking out of her blonde hair at odd angles. Other people were scampering, squealing, shouting at their children to run as they covered them with their bodies.

Some bodies were on the ground with the shattered glass, wood, and a cart wheel spinning and fumbling like a top. Those bodies did not move. In the corner of other left eye, she saw fire.

Hermione cast a weak shield charm on herself.

Then, others in robes were headed towards them, shouting, spells firing. A black figure appeared facing her, masked. She hit it with an unspoken spell, pouring her strength into it. The body was hurled backwards into the door of a shop, causing shrill screams from those taking cover inside.

Before he could move, she fired another spell, but he deflected it. Luna had stopped screaming, but the sound still rang in Hermione ears.

"Stay down. Cover me." Hermione murmured to the blonde who seemed to accept the plan for its merit, not out of fear, as she stopped trying to pull herself up and took cover behind the overturned cart, casting a silent spell on it to protect her position. From there, she could send spells safely.

The death eater was now fighting two. But he'd probably been outnumbered before, and lived to tell the tale. By murdering.

Hermione stood tall, alone in their part of the Alley. A few people stood back, unable to interfere yet without risking further injury, but she could not see who. She could not afford to take her eyes off the man, she knew. In the space of one glance, she could die.

He fired another spell that she did not deflect but she did not feel hit her. He paused. He must have done something…

"Hermione, watch out!" Luna called. The sign for Madam Malkins fell from its hinges directly above her. She hopped aside just in time to avoid it crashing into her skull, Luna shielding her as she was momentarily exposed. The edge of the sign ripped pain through her shoulder.

"Thanks!" She returned breathless, seeing Luna nod from behind the cart in acknowledgment. Her face was more serious and concentrated than Hermione had ever seen. Her calm gave Hermione calm.

At the same time, Hermione shot several spells off at their attacker in quick succession, following his quick movements as he hopped from one foot to the other, even apparating. They had not much room to work with, but he was fast, and she did not hit him.

The hot pain shooting down her arm and aching in her shoulder made it hard to hold her wand up properly and the spells seemed to throb through her.

But her anger boiled. Nearby, the heat of the fire also burned, warming that cheek and getting smoke in her lungs. She was fighting the urge to cough. Luna choked a bit on it, closer to it and the wind bringing it towards them.

She had an idea. "Luna, on three," she whispered. "One, two, three!

"Expecto Patronum!" Luna yelled unexpectedly, which shocked the death eater and caused him to stumble over some rubble as her hare darted towards him in bright light.

"Sectumsempra!" Hermione shouted with all her force.

It hit him. With Luna's distraction he could not move in time. He was ripped open, clothes torn open across his chest as if slashed with a sword, blood soaked through quickly, so quickly. He fell to the ground in shock and was immediately restrained by magical, silvery cords as Harry ran into view.

"Are you alright?" A familiar voice somewhere closer asked her. She watched the Aurors swarm around the figure.

"Who is it?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the man they were disarming.

"Hermione!" The voice pressed. "You're bleeding, are you alright?"

"Who is it?"

"I don't know yet." Neville answered. It was Neville, but she couldn't look away from figure on the ground, not until he was down for sure.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. There was too much going on for him to hear. "Harry!"

He turned, messy hair falling into his eyes though he'd had to cut it twice for work already. He stopped barking out orders. "Ron, take over." He went to her side, leaving Neville to pick up Luna. "Hermione, you're going to have to go to St. Mungos. Standard procedure." He told her matter-of-factly.

"Who is it?" She demanded, taking his arm and looking him carefully in the eye.

"Carrow. We got him."

"Luna. We need to print it first. Where's Luna?"

"What?" Harry was confused. "Look, you did brilliant. You need to go to St. Mungo's. I'll apparate you there, then come back."

"No, you're needed here. I'll go myself."

"You sure you can?"

"It's fine. Promise you'll come as soon as possible to explain this all to me?"

"I will." He nodded. "Promise."

He went back to the group, directing the others where to disperse to clean up and treat the wounded. At least there were no memories to modify.

With one last look at the scene, Hermione turned and with a pop and painful yank, disappeared and reappeared at the hospital.

* * *

"Er, hello," She approached a desk, cradling her arm. Her eyes watered from the pain. As adrenaline subsided, the agony bled through. Bleed she did as well, her arm dripping perfect dots on their marble floor. "I'm Hermione Granger. I was just attacked in Diagon—"

"Miss Granger!" The healer snapped to attention. "Right this way."

She followed the woman in white robes down the hall to a row of beds. She sat where the other indicated as the curtain shut magically around them.

"I'll be right back." She was gone.

'Yes, don't mind me.' She thought. 'I'll just sit here and bleed. Really! What was the point of having magic to heal if you were not going to act right away?' Hermione groaned, trying to rub her shoulder. That made it worse. The blood had ruined her clothes. It was then she noticed she was still clutching her shopping bag; she had not put it down the whole time.

She sat it down by the bed, noticing in shock that the sheets were already staining with red, bright red.

"Granger?" A voice asked from the other side of the curtain before poking in her head. "You okay?"

It was May, the auror. Hermione might have bristled if she weren't sitting exactly where the other girl had been not long ago, put there by the same man. "Can I come in? I'm supposed to make notes on your injuries before they can treat you so long as it's non emergent." The short haired blonde explained.

"Of course." Hermione nodded weakly, trying to offer her a small smile. It must have worked because the other girl returned it.

"Is it just the shoulder then?"

Hermione barely had time to nod before the healer arrived. "Ladies," She greeted, pulling the curtain back. "Miss Granger, I'm going to vanish your clothes."

"I can step out." May offered.

"No, it's alright." Hermione said politely. "You need to observe and make your notes."

Her clothes except her undergarments were removed at once, hung neatly on a hanger save the blood stains. May winced at the sight of the shoulder wound. "Was that a spell?" She asked.

"A sign fell on it." Hermione told them both.

The healer examined the gouge, making the pain sear. Hermione tried to stifle a whimper, but failed. "From high up?" She inquired.

"A meter."

"Heavy?"

She nodded, sucking her lip.

"It's dislocated." The healer told Hermione. Tears welled involuntarily at the sensation shooting through her arm. "I'll need to put I back in, clean it, and perform a spell to close the cut. It's deep and bled heavily, so I'll want you to take a blood replenishing potion before you leave. Uh-oh."

"What is it?" May asked, taking Hermione's other hand as the wounded girl sucked in air. Hermione squeezed it gratefully.

"The collar bone is broken. Tricky. It'll be in a sling a while even with some healing." She informed her. "Ready?"

She nodded. "Do it quickly."

There was a terrible sound and then a pop. The pain in the shoulder dissipated some as she felt it go back into place. Carefully, the wound was cleaned, closed, and bones set, a sling wrapping around.

"I'm sorry I didn't come see you after you were attacked." Hermione suddenly blurted, making May's eyes widen.

She sputtered a reply. "It—it's fine, Hermione."

"It was worse than this, wasn't it?"

"You handled him well." May smiled in response.

"Lay down now," The healer instructed. "I'll get you a copy of her file." She told May. "And I'll be right back with your potions for pain and blood loss."

She laid back as she was told; her hair still smelled like smoke.

"I'll get you a hospital robe." May offered, letting go of her hand and going in search of one.

Somehow, lying alone and hurt in a hospital bed made her feel like a lonely child. She fought back more tears.

"Hermione?" A voice boomed through the long room of beds.

"In here." She squeaked, not daring to believe it was who she thought. Sure enough, it was shortly confirmed as Severus' black hair appeared inside her white curtain. His face was furious. She shrunk further under the thin, white sheet. She felt cold.

"What happened?" He demanded. Immediately, he softened. "Are you alright?" He was at her bedside in one step.

"Fine. Just went to work, then went shopping with Luna, then took down a death eater. You know, same old." She tried to joke. His face was not amused.

"Which one." He asked slowly.

"Carrow, apparently." His eyebrows raised in unison, impressed if she wasn't mistaken. "In Diagon Alley. How's Luna? Do you know?"

He shook his head once. "And your arm?"

"Fine. He made a sign fall on it. Missed my head though, well, thanks to Luna really. The shoulder's back in again, the laceration healed. But, the collar bone is broken."

He reached for her, but stopped short. "May I see?"

She shifted in the bed as he pulled back the sheet somewhat to examine the wound. Her bra strap was hanging down so as to not touch the spot still healing. "You're undressed."

"Somewhat. I had to so they could,"

"Oh, sorry!" May stopped short as she came upon them.

"Harry!" She spotted her friend behind his coworker. "How's Luna?" She asked at once.

"Fine." He assured her. "You were great, Hermione. You took him out."

"Is he...?"

"Alive, but incapacitated and in custody. Honestly, the plan was not for you to fight him." Harry told her.

"The plan?" Snape forced the words.

Hermione felt a shiver. Her already cold blood ran cooler. Thoughts spun in her mind as the boys, Ron stepping in behind Harry, exchanged a look, hesitated to answer. "Harry, how did you get there so fast?" She asked slowly, but she already knew was already dreading the answer.

"You wouldn't listen." Ron tried.

"Don't you dare—" Severus began inching towards them predatorily. "Blame her."

"Calm down! I'm not blaming her." Harry cut him off. "I just thought Hermione is one of the top targets of one of the most wanted Death Eaters. We were concerned that her regular schedule would be too hard to resist."

"So you were waiting." Snape said through his teeth.

Hermione could only look on at her friends in horror, waiting for them to deny it.

"We knew he was going to be there." Harry admitted. "We did not know when, but we knew he'd go after her. There were half a dozen of us in disguise or hiding in George's shop the whole time, so when he made his move, we could take him down."

It was a sound plan, she reflected. Still, she was hurt to be so left out of it.

"We did not plan on her and Luna taking him down themselves."

"Tell me," Snape's voice was soft. "Was anyone killed in the chaos?"

"One person." He answered.

"No!" Hermione barely said.

"Was hurt badly!" Harry finished. "And by Carrow's spell, not our own."

"Because you forced him to attack in a public place! You waved Granger under his nose day after day, lying in wait for him to make his move in a busy street. That person was grievously hurt and two of your friends injured because you used Hermione as BAIT!" He was trembling he was so angry, she noted.

Before Harry could answer, Ron said softly. "Hermione?"

She could not answer. But then she realized, he was not asking her. Ron took a step forward, his expression creased in curiosity. "You called her Hermione."

"Really!" He spat. "Is that all you got from that?"

"That's enough shouting." The returning healer quietly scolded. "Miss Granger, I have your potions."

"Was there much blood loss?" Severus asked, his voice kind again. Of course he'd recognize the potions at once.

"A bit." The healer answered, nonchalant. "She's be perfectly fine. Lay back down, please. Drink this."

Hermione obeyed, feeling chilled to the bone. "May I have a blanket?"

The mood in the room changed palpably. "Of course."

Severus cast a warming charm on it, she noticed. "Is Luna alright?" She asked, worried for the other girl, remembering she had already asked.

"Just lie back and rest." Severus told her gently, brushing her hair back with a finger. He snapped back around to eye her friends. "Don't you have some award to accept while she lays here?" He threw at Harry, his voice thick yet barely audible. "Isn't there a throng somewhere waiting to worship you while she trembles and bleeds?"

Harry was glaring at him, looking less like a boy than ever.

"Please, you two." She asked.

"Stop this at once." The healer said.

"I'll go give report." May offered, leaving eagerly.

"Ron, go with her." Harry ordered.

"Right mate. Feel better, Hermione."

"I want a word with you. Outside." Harry's hands were forced to his sides, stiff as the rest of him.

"Very well. So long as I am not being used to lure a—"

"Save it!" Harry snapped disappearing behind the curtain in a flutter of white.

"I'll be right back." He assured her. Hermione was left to shiver and groan under her sheet, in her underwear, alone in waiting to see if Severus and Harry killed each other.

* * *

A/N: The Snape Harry confrontation to come... Are you ready to see it? What did you think of the attack? And afterwards?

Yours,

Elsie


	29. Winces

Disclaimer: HP is JK's. Not mine.

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A/N: Whoa the animosity towards Harry and Ron with their plan was palpable in those reviews! Also, this time in particular there was a lot of insightful commentary on both my writing and the story/characters. It was a pleasure to read.

That being said, thank you ALL for reading. This chapter is for Martionmanswife, Kermit 304, SeverusForever, and Mortania Hottersander! For their numerous reviews and opinions.

On a side note, I will be posting near or at the conclusion of this story how to get to my original story. I'd love to hear what you think of it if you'd be willing to give it a chance and a brief read. I think you might enjoy it, or I wouldn't mention it. No need to review- it will be easy to keep track of. More info later that will also be on my profile.

BIG NOTE; PLEASE READ: So the new guidelines say you cannot have any sexual content in fanfiction stories at all, which purges about half the stories on here and half the mature audiences and at least one chapter I already wrote for this story. Does anyone know anything about this? What the hell?

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Chapter 29: Winces

* * *

Potter rounded on Snape in a long, empty hall. "I'm doing the best I can!" He snapped immediately. His green eyes were glistening with tears. "I could never do anything to hurt Hermione. I was trying to protect her. She wasn't bait; she was a target."

"I know." He said gently, sighing. Severus had to admit that was true. Telling Hermione she may be being followed would have just changed her reaction, given their positions away, and then the attack would still be impending but less predictable.

"I took every precaution! I even used the liquid luck you gave me at the party...where do you get off telling me how to do my job?" His voice was cold by the end of it.

"I was just very… I reacted instinctively."

"By instinctive, you mean to mock me with your own arrogance, calling me a selfish, haughty bastard."

"No." He said simply.

"NO?"

"I was, that is, my concern was with Miss Granger." He struggled.

Harry frowned, thinking as if it took great effort. It probably did, Severus mused.. "You called her Hermione."

"I did. At her request. We have been working together for some time now. Why? Does this not meet with your approval?"

Harry shook his head dismissively, ignoring the cheap shot. "No, I just mean… you called her by her first name. You don't call anyone by their first name." Potter continued to stare incredulously, leaving Severus feeling strangely exposed. Even worse, the young man continued to think his was through it… aloud. "You call her Granger, Miss Granger if you're feeling nice. But Hermione? That's not even easier to say. Granger is only two syllables whereas Her-mi-o-ne…"

"Your point, _Assistant Director_?" he sneered, crossing his arms across his chest.

A healer passed them in the corridor, seeming uninterested. Severus knew they were trained to be discrete, but he did not trust anyone really. Both men waited for them to pass.

Harry Potter frowned, scrutinizing his former teacher. "You care about her now?"

The comment bristled him, but he could make no protest. He had been cruel to her in her school years, sometimes because he had to or to protect her, sometimes because of her association with Potter or just being generally annoyed with her mouth.

"I do." He told him simply.

"Well, then—that's…well." Potter sighed, trying find air or words or brain waves, Severus figured. He might as well drop the bomb now.

"I am to take her out," He announced, rolling onto the balls of his feet. "This weekend. Since she has not mentioned it, I believe we would be best if you kept this to yourself, especially given your best mate's proclivity for punching like a Neanderthal."

It took the young man a moment to recall how to form words. "Sure." Potter appeared to be reading the floor.

"Is this going to be a problem?"

He looked up, surprised but not angry. "No, no." His voice was high, fast and jumpy. "Just, _blimey_."

"Well, we'll just reconvene when you have prepared your speech, then?" He bounced on his heels. "I'm going to look after Miss Granger."

"Hermione." He corrected, causing Severus to pause mid pivot. "Don't call her that anymore," Potter raised his eyebrows in warning. "She'll get cross with you if you do." Severus took a step forward, thankfully not daring to smile at Severus. "She's a grown woman. I reckon she can make her own decisions. At least if she's with you, she's safe." Potter nodded seeming to have finished with his assessment.

Without a response, Severus turned a returned to Hermione's bedside.

Not for the first time, he realized that he, Severus Snape, was going to attentively bedside of his former student, frizzy haired know-it-all Hermione Granger. The preposterousness of it slapped him in the face and nearly made him leave. What the bloody hell was he doing? And not for the first time, his mind was made up to check in on her and leave. But once he saw her, the strangeness of his instinct vanished. He couldn't leave her alone. He couldn't.

* * *

She turned in her sleep, rolling onto her uninjured side. The sheet slipped off her, exposing her bra-clad figure. He ignored the softness of his skin as he readjusted the cover for her. He glanced up at her clothes hanging blood-soaked on a rack nearby and swallowed the bile.

The touch roused her. "Severus?" She whispered.

"How are you feeling?"

"Where's Luna?"

He sighed. He was not annoyed, though, not really. He was worried. She kept asking the same question; she might be in shock. "She's safe, remember?"

"I know," She attempted to stretch, realizing her mistake at once with a wince. "I meant where _is_ she? We had plans and she will want to put this is the magazine…" She was so busy fidgeting already, she did not realize her sheet had fallen… They were _larger_ than he expected, he noted. Despite her jibes, he was human.

"Hermione,"

She ignored him, sliding her legs off the bed and moving her little feet about, trying to find her shoes. "No, I've got to go and check on her at least. She saved my life."

"Hermione, you aren't dressed." The sheet was only stretched across her lap, her legs exposed, her upper body free except her bra and arm sling.

"Oh!" She huffed, covering herself in a rush.

"I'll let you change." He stepped out, stifling his laughter. She might very well hex him.

"Yes!" She squealed, blushing. He chuckled to himself. "I can hear you laughing, you know? You're shaking the curtain. Ouch!"

"Hermione, do you need help?"

"No, I'm… I'll manage."

"Let me help. I won't look." He sighed, stepping back behind the curtain.

She tried to cover herself and failed. Hermione kept her eyes on the floor, he noticed, as he carefully tugged on the sleeveless dress Miss Weasley had brought. He guessed the redhead had gone to her other friend's side for the moment, since Hermione had been asleep, and he did not mind. In her eagerness to leave the hospital, neither did Hermione. Once the dress was on, he had to button it down the front, which did seem to annoy her but likely because she was frustrated she could not fasten them herself with only one hand.

He hand to kneel in front of her to button it all the way down, pinching the fabric together so she remained covered. Though simple, the fat-buttoned grey and yellow dress complimented her hourglass shape, he noted standing back up.

"Thank you." She said, as always. He found himself reaching up to tuck her falling hair behind her ear.

"No need to thank me." He said simply. Finally, she looked into his face, searching as always. He was never sure what she was looking for, if she would ever look at him without that- wondering... whatever it was she was wondering. "I had to speak to Potter."

"Yes. How did that go?" She grabbed her bag from the bed. "He's still breathing I take it."

"He is. And able to speak, unfortunately."

"I'm impressed." She taunted, grabbing her bag with her good arm before he could. "What happened?"

He reluctantly explained. "I told him I was taking you to dinner."

"How did he take it?" They stepped away from the bed and through the curtain.

"It was a shock." He gave a weak smile. She nodded, understanding as they walked. "But he agreed to be discrete until…" He left the sentence hanging. She nodded again. "If you don't want to go back with them, you are welcome to come home with me." He offered.

She looked up at him in surprise, her eyes glimmering gratefully. "Tempting, but I think I had better go back and face them. Besides," she gave a brief sad smile. "I'll be seeing you soon, right?"

This time, he nodded. "I'll pick you up." He told her as they walked towards the exit. "I don't want you traveling alone with your wand arm compromised."

He expected her to protest, but she just squeezed her lips together and said nothing, looking straight ahead.

"I'll see you soon." She turned to him, getting ready to depart.

"Soon." He assured her, and she was gone.

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked when she got up the next morning.

"Alright." She told him stiffly.

"Ron made you a cup of tea already." He told her as she began to struggle with her one arm to prepare some. She only raised an eyebrow in response. "Luna sent muffins." He added.

"How is she?"

"Fine. Already left on her trip. Insisted." He sounded pleased, proud even. "She's taking Snape's potion, ankle is healed. She was pleased we got Carrow."

"So am I, you know? I just did not like not being in loop."

"I know. I'm sorry. If you had known, you would have insisted on going about your day, but you would have acted differently, and he may have figured something was going on. Hermione, we were _all_ there. You weren't bait. We were a protective detail."

He was right, in a way, but she did not back down. "Harry, I understand, but you know better than anyone how that made me feel. It was right upstairs in this _house_ you screamed at me about the unfairness of Dumbledore talking to us and not you and _your_ protection detail."

"I know." He cut her off. "I really am sorry, Hermione. Severus gave me quite a talking-to." He dared to grin behind his cup at that.

"Careful you," She warned. "I've still got one good arm." He laughed nervously, glancing at her. "Where's Ron? Hiding?" She presumed.

"Yep." He said matter-of-factly. They laughed. "It's weird, you know?" He said suddenly. She knew what he was talking about. She and Snape, as they thought of him, Severus.

"I know."

"He seems to really like you…but,"

"But what?"

"He's Snape. He can only be so nice. And he's never…I mean you… it doesn't make sense to me." Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid he can only go so far. That he'll hurt you."

"Harry." Her voice cracked with emotion, she touched his arm on the table near her. She took a deep breath. "I know," She said slowly, aloud for the first time. Harry was right, after all. He saw the road she was headed down, and he was trying to protect her. She did not have the heart to tell him it was a lost cause; she knew she was gone the moment her heart jumped into her throat at the sound of his voice, angry with concern, ripping through that hospital room. His rare kind words and gentleness had been less rare as of late and it gave her hope-heart wrenching hope for something he could never feel. Not for her. "He might not be capable of… that he might not want me, but I have to – I just want to be around him, you know?"

Harry looked at the table, his finger playing with his cup. He shook his head. "No, not really." He admitted, his voice hollow. She furrowed her brow in concern. If he did not know then...

"It's hard to explain." She looked into her tea cup, knowing if he said nothing else, it was not the time to push the subject of his personal life. "Oh!" She stood up, looking at the clock. "I've got to go. I'm going to be late."

"Hermione," He began.

"I suppose I could wear this…" She looked down at the dress she had slept in last night.

"Hermione!"

"What?" She stopped.

"You're not going to work today."

"Harry. Don't start with me. Carrow has been captured."

"What do you remember about yesterday?"

"What do you mean?" That sinking feeling was creeping into her stomach.

"Fire?" He prompted. She wasn't making the connection, but something in her mind must have because she felt ill. "Hermione, I'm so sorry. The bookstore…Flourish and Blotts is gone."

"Gone?" She breathed, sitting again before her legs could fall out from under her.

"It burned. Most of the building and its frame were saved but the books were either destroyed or damaged from smoke and water putting out the fire."

"No." She shook her head in denial. It was unthinkable. That was like Hogwarts vanishing. Flourish and Blotts was the wizarding world, to her, and somehow it felt like her fault.

Harry stood over her. "I have to go to work. Ginny's away at some initiation process with her teammates before she can publically announce her joining the Harpies, and Luna's chasing some, er, thing, so if you want to come to the Ministry, go to the Burrow, or, well, Snape's…to, you know, not be alone."

"I'll be fine, Harry. Go ahead."

"Okay. See you tonight."

* * *

It was a sad sight, the singed pages blanketing the place like filthy snow. Toppled shelves laid about like headstones, gapping holes where windows used to be. And stacks of books seemed to grow from the floor, soaked and ruined. It smelled like ink, ash, and mildew.

"Mr. Welling." She spotted the man coughing over some singed records.

"Oh, my dear, Hermione. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine; I'm just so sorry about this. I can't believe…"

"Yes well, it's quite a loss."

"How long until you can re-open?"

"Oh, well I'm not sure." He blinked, looking at the records. "We lost some profit being closed during the war, and now this... I'm not sure."

"But surely, you're insured!"

He shook his round, little head. "For the building yes, but not all the inventory because of how quickly it comes in and out, the lost records…"

"What can I do?" She demanded.

"You can go home." He squeezed her hand. "Or take what you can find. I've got to go see about these shelves…Abbot," He wandered, mumbling to himself among his beloved rows as they dared to literally crumble. "Acorn. Adern. Addison. Admont."

She could take it no longer and went into the alley, apparating before the staring eyes of onlookers who had no doubt read about the fight the previous day.

* * *

Back at Grimmauld Place, her frustration boiled over. The second she had the door closed behind her, heaving back pressed against its cool surface, knees slightly bent, she screamed down the hall. Her screams were met by the ravings of Lady Black.

"FILTHY MUDBLOOD! In MY house, the house of my fathers! Useless Sirius and his filth—"

Instead of ignoring it, this time, it filled with Hermione rage. Shouting back was futile, but with calm fury she stood and slowly approached the painting. As the half crazed woman spat insults at her, Hermione stared calmly into the portrait. Her mind was pleasantly blank though her ears rang with obscenities. And as the woman began to forth at the mouth, Hermione procured a hatchet from her wand, laid down the wand, and took the hatched to the canvas, bedding in into the wall behind.

"AHHH!" The woman screamed louder.

Yanking it back out of the wall on the third try, Hermione continued her work, slicing a gap here and there, splintering the wood around it. Each strike gave a rewarding feeling with the snap of wood and the protests of the lady of the house.

"Blood traitors and filthy-"

Whack!

"Disgracing the most noble-"

Wham!

"I won't stand for it!"

Crack!

Kreacher came down the hall trying to push her away. "Mistress! Mistress!" He wept.

"Don't'!" She warned him, hatchet held in his face. It would have been her wand had she had two good hands to use at once. As Kreacher wept and rocked back and forth, she worked up a sweat, her collar bone protesting wildly, Black protesting wilder, as bit by bit she tore away the space of wall, revealing the hollow darkness behind it.

It felt good. It felt like revenge destroying this for destroying Flourish and Blotts—that first magical place she'd visited before Hogwarts…filled with so many wondrous books on the impossible, knowing it was all real, that her life was about to change forever.

And when there was naught left of the painting but a few scraps of blue and gold and black canvas-crusted wood, she could see behind a glint of something in the darkness. "Lumos."

She pulled at the shards remaining, getting them free.

"Hermione!" Ron rushed in behind her, looking between her and the gap in the wall, then back. "Blimey." He rubbed the back of his head. "Guess you found something to do."

She laughed, panting from her work. "Harry, I think I found something."

* * *

Hermione needed help. She had somehow managed to bathe and shave her legs with just one useful arm, but putting on make-up the muggle way or putting on her clothes for the date was impossible. Impossible.

She threw her eyebrow pencil across the room with a screech. It was not very mature, but she felt inept and frustrated beyond words—though not beyond screeching, apparently. There was a knock at the door.

"Hermione?" Harry asked tentatively. "You okay?"

"Ugh, Harry! I'm not really dressed and I—I can't do this. I can't get ready I—" Adding to her shame, a painful lump rose in her throat and she began to feel tears spill out, messing up her already ruined make up.

And then, Harry Potter came to her rescue. If she had ever doubted her best friend was a true hero, that moment erased all doubt. He had to know even in the back of his mind that Ginny and Ron and Snape would not be happy he'd seen her in her state, wrapped in a towel, but he didn't care. He wasn't even afraid of being mentally scarred. He was not afraid of dresses or even make up.

"You are—" She started, amazed.

"Save it." He said, annoyed. "Tell me what to do. That is what you do best."

"Are you calling me bossy?"

"Yes." He said without missing a beat. His eyes were fixed on the puddle-riddled floor. "Now, tell me."

"I need you to help do my make up."

"You're serious?"

"Harry! I can't be late for… Snape will be pissed. I helped you destroy horcruxes; you can help me get ready."

"Did you just make a horcrux joke?"

"I guess."

"The twins would be proud. What is this? A pencil?" He held it up as she struggled to secure het towel magically. At least then she wouldn't have to worry about this moment becoming any more awkward.

"Yes. For eyebrows. Now just shade mine in a little. Careful." Harry knelt in front of her trying to draw lightly on her face, a strange sensation.

"How do you make these match?"

"They don't match?" She asked at once.

"Don't panic. I don't see why you are even bothering. It's not like he hasn't seen you before without make up."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to look attractive, Harry." She told him.

"Well, if he likes you then you should look like yourself. Ginny looks like a different person when she's going out." Hermione bit her tongue, handing the eyelash curler to her friend. "Is this meant to torture someone?" He asked.

She showed him how to use it with her good hand. "Okay. Hold very still." He told her. She closed her eyes. "Speaking of Ginny," He continued. "I had to do some fast talking to make your excuses for missing her celebratory Weasley dinner tonight, by the way. I told them you had something you had to do at St. Mungos."

"You lied?" She opened her eyes.

"Don't act so surprised. Now what? No one can ever know I did this. I should make you take an unbreakable vow."

She laughed, taking out some eye shadow. "Dark color down here, like this." She showed him, rubbing little clouds. "Light color, other side, up here."

"It's kind of like coloring in the lines." He commented, copying her move. When he licked his finger and rubbed away a smudge, she laughed. "Shut up." He told her.

"Now some mascara."

"Don't you think that's enough? I'll blind you."

"Top, then from the bottom, just the tips."

"Okay." He sighed, concentrating very hard on his work.

"Any progress de-cursing that stuff I found in your wall?" She asked. She said 'stuff' instead of mysterious artifacts of an expensive, metallic nature. Harry had taken them to work, betting they were hexed. They had to be important or deadly or both the way the Blacks had taken every effort to conceal them for who knows how long.

"Not much yet. There are some interesting things in there… everyone at work is pretty smitten with them, even the director."

The mirror helped her pencil in some lines below her eyes. She didn't trust herself to use lipstick; pink gloss would have to do it. No blush or anything. It wasn't much of a difference, but her face looked nicer.

They moved to her room. "Okay look away while I do what I can to get this dress on." She magic-ed some mouse and curlers into her hair. Harry did so, examining things of her dresser while she removed the sling and tugged the dress off the hanger.

"Hermione, is this the ring Rex sent you?" He rubbed the red and gold ring in his fingers.

"Yes." She said while slowly, painfully struggling into the pink and black number. "Why?"

He turned as she pulled it up as much as she could, turning around for him to zip it. He did so without a sound. The doorbell rang.

"I'll go let him in." Harry took a deep breath. "Good luck." He shook his head in disbelief again.

"Go on." She said, suddenly remembering her hair wasn't finished. It was more wavy than it was curled and… voluminous at best. At least it was shiny and smelled nice, she sighed. It would have to do. _She_ would have to do.

* * *

A/N: How was Hermione and Severus' moment? Harry bonding? We will one day get to that date... do let me know you're ready with a review! As, always, thanks for reading.

Yours,

Elsie


	30. West End

Disclaimer: HP belongs to JK. no rights, no profit made.

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A/N: Welcome to many new readers and many who reviewed for the first time! Thanks also to everyone for your information on the censorship of this site. Hopefully, we will be safe, but as a reminder this will reach an M rating. As a warning: there is some language and scandalous-ness in here, so you know, be warned. Special thanks with this chapter to reader-since-the-beginning MissJaneEyre and faithfully reviewing new-comers the dragon and the rose and Cloelius Princess.

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Chapter 30: West End

* * *

"I prefer the book." He said.

"You've read the book?" She looked at him as they walked down the street through the summer evening.

"Don't sound so surprised." He responded, snarky.

"I just didn't know." She told him, holding onto the arm he had offered like a gentleman as they left. "I love that book, but I did enjoy some of the music."

"Yes, it was impressive." He admitted. "I had other plans, but given your… limitations." He indicated her sling. "I thought, well, I thought you might like it."

"I did. I'm glad I went with a dress." She said. "I had no idea we were going to the muggle theatre."

"It's a nice dress." She smirked, noting how his voice stayed perfectly level and his eyes stayed forward as he paid her the compliment.

"Glad you like it." She smiled teasingly. "I almost died getting this dress."

His head snapped towards her in surprise.

"Carrow attacked us coming out of the Madam Malkins." She explained, smiling at her own joke. He shook his head disapprovingly.

"Good to know." He said darkly. "Care for a drink?" He asked.

"I'd love one." She said, feeling a little relief that she did not have to leave him just yet.

He took her by surprise, apparating on the spot. She gasp a bit as they stood outside his door, which he held open for her. She stood awkwardly in the living room where they had sat so many hours, covered in parchment and surrounded by books, as he fetched two glasses of wine.

"Red?" He asked.

She nodded, licking her lips. His much taller form had crossed the room in an instant, standing very close to her as he handed over the glass. The sudden proximity made her breathe in shorter bursts. As suddenly as he was there- close enough to touch, to smell- he was gone, making himself comfortable on the far end of the couch, lighting the fire. The summer night was unusually cool.

"Sit." He invited, his left arm stretched along the back of the couch.

So she sat next to him, his arm behind her but not touching her. The fire threw shadows along his stoic face, complimenting his strong profile as he stared into the flames. Sipping her wine, she relaxed into his side.

It was warm there, his smell wrapping around her as she gradually nestled further into him, unable to keep herself from trying to get closer to him. Thankfully, he made no protest. Her body relaxed, sensing it was perfectly safe. She grew sleepy, cursing herself. It must have been obvious too. He pressed the outside of her leg with his hand, motioning with his head she should stretch out on the couch, her upper body leaning into him.

She tugged off the heels and lifted her feet on the soft couch fabric, rubbing her free toes along it.

"Here." His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her closer against his side and chest. She smiled, her face angled safely away from him. Music played faintly.

"I didn't know you liked this music." She murmured.

"It's not bad." He said, his deep voice reverberating through her, giving her chills. "Are you cold?" He asked with soft concern. She shook her head no. She thought she could feel him smile at that, but she just sighed, resting her head back against his solid form. She was enjoying it while it lasted.

His fingers brushed against her bare upper arm, stroking up and down very slowly, as if absentmindedly. Again, chill bumps raised on her skin. She could not hear but felt him chuckle against her at her reaction.

She readjusted slightly, smirking at the stairs. "Why do you have it then?" She asked about the music, grasping for straws of conversation.

His voice was close to hear ear when he answered, lowly. "Because you do."

She was not going to shiver. She was _not_.

His fingers continued to stroke her arm near the elbow. She concentrated on the tuba singing through the gramophone, on the crackling logs in the fireplace. He stared at the fire, she saw from the corner of her eye, swirling red wine in his glass, slowly putting it to his lips. He made a sound after, then relaxed more, pressing a kiss absentmindedly to her hair. She pulled her knees up, closer to her chest. It felt like it needed the support.

Sighing again, her head lolled onto his shoulder. His hand accidentally brushed her knee, the fabric of her dress falling back. He lightly touched the newly exposed skin just above the knee, tracing a circle there. She stared at his finger.

The dress fell further up her bended legs, exposing more of them, his fingers trailing slowly after it. He was not even looking. She slid them, her knees, pointing slightly to the left. She gasped quietly as his finger slid several inches up and down the inside of her thigh.

The rest of his body was still, carefully gauging her reactions. He put his fingers together above her knee and slowly spread them, the moving skin tugging the fabric free to fall another inch. The black hem of her dress was high now, almost to her panty line, just covering her.

"I should warn you," She said, her face warm. At least she did not stammer.

"You're _warning_ me?" He murmured dangerously in her ear.

"I, in this dress, and my arm...well, I'm not… wearing anything under it."

He sucked in a breath, balling up the fabric between her legs in one hand, a fist really. It was just covering her.

After a moment, he spoke. "So you are telling me that my hand is just inches from you…"

She nodded, unable to speak.

His breath was on her hair again, his voice growling softly. "And I thought I'd been tortured before." She nearly snorted at that, giggled.

He sighed, wandlessly setting their glasses on the table. "Let's get you up to bed, I suppose."

Well, that was quick, she thought with a jolt. He scooped her up bridal style and carried her up the stairs, which was very sweet but put her in the awkward position of having to look up at him. She inhaled the smell of his hair, the wine still on his breath. He looked down at her once, offering a weak smile.

It cooled her blood. He did not look happy, slightly pained even.

He laid her carefully on the bed. She did not look around. It was all happening very quickly. He had not even asked. But before she could begin to grow nervous, he had out his wand. That was strange, she thought. The first few words jogged in her memory, but before she could protest, she was at Grimmauld Place in her own bed.

* * *

Hermione was burning with either indignation or embarrassment. Either way, she was unable to sit still. She leapt from the bed and paced her floor, her feet cold since she left her sexy heels in his den. She growled in frustration, throwing up her hands she had been ringing. Abandoning her fruitless activity, she headed downstairs and found Harry drinking alone in the kitchen. It was near midnight. She said nothing, just jerked out a chair and grabbed the bottle, pouring her own.

"Geez," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Bad date?" He retook to bottle, pouring a little more cherry vodka.

She sipped hers angrily. "No. Not at all actually."

"You look nice." He offered as if it was some consolation.

"Thank you. _I_ thought so." She snapped.

"Did he insult you?"

"Not exactly…"

"Do I even want to know?" He asked, eyebrows pushed awkwardly together.

She looked at him, biting her lip. Did he? "It _is_ Snape, Harry."

"I'll imagine it's someone else." He took a drink to assure it.

She nodded, accepting that answer because she really wanted to talk and she could not bear to tell Ginny; the girl could never relate to that experience... "He sent me home."

"Why?"

"I have no idea." She down her drink, pouring more. Harry frowned, thinking.

"Maybe he was being polite?" He offered, halfheartedly.

"Harry, things were going…_well_." She indicated.

Harry's face was not sure what color to turn. "Did you, you know, give him the okay?"

"Uh, yes." She shifted in her seat.

"What did you say exactly? Guys can be oblivious."

"I told him I wasn't wearing panties—"

"Too much!" He threw his hands up in surrender, trying to stop the words from reaching him.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, he was about to find out anyway. I was warning him, but it came out all sexy because I don't know what I'm doing."

"Stop! Stop!" He was shouting, downing more vodka.

"Urgh!" She growled. He struggled to swallow the gulp, then seemed to get a hold of himself.

"What did he say? This person I've never, _ever_ met."

"That I was teasing him, and then he carried me to his bed."

He arched an eyebrow. "Go on, Hermione. That's all pretty hot."

"I thought so." She sipped again.

"So when did it go wrong?"

"He laid me on his bed and—"

"Keep it PG." He interjected.

"_And_," she spoke louder. "He did a spell to put me back in my bed."

Harry looked confounded. "Maybe he was being a gentleman." He shrugged.

"Or maybe it's a lot simpler. Maybe he couldn't bring himself to—"

"I don't think that's it."

"Why not?"

"Hermione, look, you… tonight…in that dress. If he likes women, he wanted you."

She smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Harry. It's just I've never felt really sexy and desirable, and he just made me feel like—like—oh, I don't know!" She finished her second drink.

"Whoa, slow down." He pulled away the bottle.

"Shut it." She smiled.

"Well, if we're confessing things, I hate my fucking job."

"What?"

"Don't look surprised. You knew it didn't you?"

"Well, I was worried it wouldn't be what you hoped." She admitted, reluctantly smiling.

"How could you know that?" He was almost annoyed. "I didn't even know that."

"Well, you're a rule breaker, Harry. You hate politics. Now you're basically special branch police in a political headquarters."

"I think you had the right idea." He swirled his drink. "I miss Hogwarts."

"Harry," She said thoughtfully, recalling the similar comment he made the night they uncovered Winky's plot. "What did Snape mean, 'you know what I think about that?'"

"Snape says I should take the Defense against the Dark Arts position."

"I thought he wanted it."

"He's not even sure he wants to keep teaching."

"He didn't tell me that." She murmured, sipping sadly.

"Might be lying to look like he's not doing me a favor." Harry shrugged. "Sorry."

"It's fine. I have to admit though, it makes sense. You always said Hogwarts is your home."

"But Hermione, I'm not qualified to teach."

"Harry, you forget, you haven't just defeated Voldemort, you did so under the tutelage of Albus Dumbledore, a master, an actual death eater, and Remus Lupin—let's not count Umbridge, Quirrel, or Lockhart. You've dealt with horcruxes, Deathly Hallows, dueling, cursed brooms, possession, dangerous plants and animals... You trained the DA, taught them. Those people fought in three battles, Harry. Three of them became aurors."

"Well, when you put it like that…."

"_And_ now you've been through all the training auror's get." She took his hand. "You would be a wonderful teacher. Don't be afraid to do what makes you happy."

"Easy for you to say. Ron will be so disappointed."

"Maybe not too badly if you make sure he takes your spot." He raised an eyebrow at her cleverness. "It will be hard for you and Ron to be separated, sure, but it might also be nice for Ron to have a position where he doesn't have to compete with you, Harry, or back you up, where he's in control in his own right."

"Yeah, I never thought it that way." He admitted. "You might be on to something. Ron loves it and he's brilliant at it. Gets better every day. If I tell them I can't do it anymore, want a quiet job teaching like Dumbledore, and that he's better at this, his Dad's already a leader in the ministry, his brother…"

"Exactly." She nodded.

"But I'll miss him," he admitted. "Especially if im at Hogwarts."

"Does McGonagall have someone for the next year?"

He shook his head "I don't think so."

"Wouldn't hurt to ask. Just stay there a little while longer, stave off management, learn what you can, and then bam: ask."

"Why do you have all the answers?"

"Not for myself." She scoffed. She finished her glass. How many had she had? "I cant decide on men or a proper job. I have no family I rarely see my best friends. Im not going to proper university. How did I try so hard to everything right and end up,"

"Whoa, whoa," his hand was on hers. "Hermione it's okay. You're brilliant. It's not you. Things are crazy right now. It will work out."

"Things have always been crazy. When is it going to just stop?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "Luna says everything is going to work out, but it's like the war created messy knots of our lives and we have to unravel it bit by bit."

"You two have gotten…close." Hermione suggested tentatively, looking at the glass she held at arm's length across the table.

Harry, she noted, did not look up either. "She heard the Veil, you know, the voices beyond it."

She pressed her lips together. "That's been bothering you a lot."

He nodded, swallowing. "She could see the threstrals too. We both don't have parents. I don't know... I don't know." He repeated.

"She's so calm." Hermione observed. Whereas Ginny was fiery and passionate and lively in every way, something a young starved-for-life Harry might have been drawn to, Luna was as steady as she was strange, unrattled, and unwaveringly consoling and optimistic.

"She was the only one that made me feel better after…Sirius." He shifted uncomfortably as he confessed it. "She's been ostracized and slandered. She knows what it's like to be hated for a reason you can't help."

"I know what you mean." Hermione agreed, bringing her cup to her lips. "She's beautiful." She added. Harry scowled at her.

But Hermione was not deterred so easily. She knew Ginny, and the girl loved attention. She was the youngest of seven children and a good looking girl, after all. She was going to get a lot of attention on the quidditch team, and Harry had enough attention to last him a lifetime.

Harry looked up at her, his hopeful eyes brimming with tears of relief.

"It wouldn't be the end of the world. If they will forgive me for breaking it off with Ron," She did not say exactly what she meant, but hesitantly talked around it.

"Mrs. Weasley still thinks you'll get back together. He's planning to win you back."

She sighed. "They love you more, Harry." She assured him. "You're their family."

"So are you. Besides, I care a lot about Ginny. I couldn't hurt her. We get on great, when we see each other. Well, except when heard about the Carrow thing. Boy she went off on me. Besides, I haven't even thought about... What if I'm making a mistake?"

"Well—" She clamped her hand over her mouth.

"Hermione?"

"I'm going to be sick."

* * *

Severus Snape appeared on the familiar doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place holding a pair of sexy black heels. Harry Potter opened the door. The older man heaved a sigh at his position. If Black or Lupin could see him now...

"No." Potter made to shut the door as soon as he saw who it was.

"Excuse me?" He asked, dangerously, stopping the door with his arm.

"No, you can't see her. You rejected her and hurt her feelings. She deserves to be treated better than that."

He made to shut the door again, but Severus stopped him, pushing it back open. He could only be stunned. "What?"

"You hurt her feelings." He repeated as if the older man was being thick.

"Well, that wasn't my intention. May I see her so that I can apologize?"

"No." The door was pulled short with a snap. There was no anger in his voice. Potter was very matter-of-fact about it. He, on the other hand, felt anything but clearheaded.

So Granger was upset with him for… not bedding her? It was their first date, and she was hurt on top of that. What did she expect? Perhaps she felt that with him being an older man she needed to prove her maturity, satiate his needs he conjectured with disgust. It may be selfish, though, to think it was about him. It might be that becoming a woman and surviving the war at the same time had thrown her body into a passion, a need to take control of her sexuality.

Maybe she felt like she needed him, needed the closeness, the acceptance she thought sex would give her. But as he said the night she graduated, he was going to be gentleman, as his mother taught him. He was going to treat her with care and respect. He was not going to shag her only to decide he couldn't maintain a relationship with her.

He pushed his way inside.

"Wait! You can't." Harry stumbled into his path.

"Potter." He sneered. "Are you drunk?" He stunk of it.

"A little." He admitted. "She was sick. She's sleeping now. Can I—I talk to you?"

"Mr. Potter, I really do not have the time to…" His knees were knocked out from under him as a chair rushed to hastily to meet him.

"I just…I love her."

"Miss Granger?" He snapped.

"No. Well, yes I mean as a friend. Hang on, do you love her?"

To both their surprise, he did not deny it. "That is hardly something I would discuss with you, especially before I've discussed it with—"

"Ginny."

Snape shook his head in disbelief. "Miss Wealsey?"

"Yes."

"No. With Miss Granger."

Potter rubbed his forehead. "No, I was talking about I love Ginny. Use their real names, would you? You're confusing me."

Snape sighed, thinking of pushing past him. Somehow his evening with Hermione had turned into him babysitting a snackered Potter.

"So easily done. Forgive me." With a lazy swish of his wand, Potter too had a chair to sit in, into which he collapsed. Severus rubbed his own brow. "So this is Miss Weasley you're talking about?" As he heard the words, he wondered if he were dreaming...or having a nightmare. He also wondered how much alcohol Potter had imbibed and if he needed a purging potion or a healer.

"Yes." He affirmed. It was about his love life then. 'Resplendent,' thought Severus.

"And you're unhappy?" He grimaced even asking his least favorite former student about a topic so … abhorrent.

"No."

"Then if as you said you love her and you are not unhappy, I fail to see the problem." He stood, eager to escape heels still in hand. Teasing heels with that rather innocent dress. What did she mean not wearing any knickers...and telling him so, but he had been teasing her as well, he supposed. At some point, the teasing would have to stop.

"It feels... wrong." Potter struggled about his own dilemma. "I can't explain. I don't want to … date her. But I don't want to hurt her. We're so different... but there's also her family…"

"You think you will make one another unhappy."

He nodded once. "Eventually."

"You wish to end it before it ends sourly?"

"I don't wish to end it."

"Because you're being a coward."

"Excuse me?"

"You're afraid of the consequences, so you are refusing to act?" He stated plainly.

"I'm trying to do the RIGHT THING!" Potter stood, unsteadily.

"Inaction has consequences too, Mr. Potter. It is a hard learned lesson that you are doing a person no favors by staying with them for their wellbeing. If that is the only thing keeping you with them, then they deserve the time and freedom to move on. Your mother knew as much."

"But, she hurt you…"

"For a time, yes. Mostly I hurt myself. Second lesson: you do not owe a person your commitment for any reason. You do not have to justify the end of any relationship you have not committed to not ending. There need not be a reason. You owe no one _yourself_."

Potter blinked at him for several minutes looking nearly as understanding as a pygmy puff. "Huh?"

Severus let out a noise of exasperation and stood. "As pathetic as your problems are, I suggest you confide in your best friend."

"But he's her sister!"

"Or another friend. Please deliver these to Miss Granger and offer my apologies for…for whatever it was I did to offend her, and—you're not going to remember any of this, are you?"

Harry shook his head slowly. Severus was sorely tempted to roll his eyes when a piercing cry disturbed them. It was one he heard before in a memory, a horrific memory of Bellatrix and Malfoy Manor...

"Hermione." Harry confirmed in a breath. Severus had already darted up the stairs two at a time.

He did not knock. She was in knickers and a tank top that was sliding off one side as she thrashed in her covers. She was going to injure her break. He looked around the room at once- for rings, for a death eater, for anything that might be harming her. But the pain was coming from the inside.

Severus sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to touch her injuired side. "Hermione." He roused her. She whimpered, tears leaking from her tightly shut eyes. "Hermione." He made his voice more firm, demanding. She gave a small start.

He tried again, seeing his voice tug her from sleep. "Wake up." Carefully, he took her arm and slid his fingers up and down the inner forearm, the skin there softer than a quill's feather tip. With his other hand and wand, he pulled up the sheet to cover her body.

She blinked open her eyes, confused. "Severus?" She tried and failed to sit up, her hair more askew than normal. He shifted closer to her.

"It's me." He confirmed so she would know the dream was over. "I was returning your shoes."

She closed her eyes sleepily, nestling against her pillow. "Hmm. Prince Charming." She slurred.

"Do I detect a hint of sarcasm, Miss Granger?" He teased pointedly not talking about the incident.

She furrowed her brows a bit. "Don't call me that." She scolded lightly, eyes still closed.

"Sorry. Hermione." He corrected. "Go to sleep now, sweetheart. You're safe." He risked stroking her face, knowing if she were coherent enough to remember the exchange he would have leapt up in bed to ask what was wrong or been embarrassed. Most people were so obnoxious when drunk, but again a slightly inebriated Hermione Granger was a delicate and adorable. He watched her drift off soundly, feeling a strange anger that he would have to leave her.

When he did turn to go, he found someone watching. Potter was standing in the doorway, balking at him, mouth opened. "This." He said slowly. "I will never forget."

Severus brushed past him again. It was only Potter. To be helpful, he cast a purging spell so that Potter emptied the toxic contents of his stomach on his own shoes. He left the house with a smirk to return to his own empty home and the torturous night that lie ahead.

* * *

A/N: This was too fun to write. I know you did not get to see much of their date... but what about after? ;) Harry and Hermione's sharing...Drunk Harry cornering Snape and that last bit...? Please take a second to review. Makes my day!

Yours,

Elsie


	31. Wary

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine. I lay no claim and make no profit.

* * *

A/N: Exciting number of reviews, guys, and lots of new readers- thanks! Life is incredibly hectic right now, but here you are. Trying to stay on the ball.

* * *

Chapter 31: Wary

* * *

Severus was enjoying his solitude once again in Spinner's End. He had his feet up and his shirt unbuttoned, the windows open and letting in the summer heat and breeze. He'd slept in, something he rarely did. He felt he deserved a relaxed Sunday off, free to do as he pleased and free of each and every single former student.

He had lessons and reading lists to send to Hogwarts, plans to draw up, ingredients to send for, and letters to answer about his potion. _The Prophet_ was doing a piece on it, and he was being asked to make a comment.

Somehow, it seemed disloyal given Lovegood and Hermione were hard at work at _The Quibbler_ and though the audience was perhaps different, the two could be seen as in competition when it came to interviews, especially with veterans. Potter and Kingsley themselves had given the information on the Death Eaters captured and at large, breaking the records of _Quibbler_ sales in their front page splash. The rest of the thing was still codswallop, but the quality of that article was far above any ragtag _Prophet_ piece of _Witch Weekly_ gossip heavy bull. Simply everyone had a copy, he noted with a bit of pride, especially recalling how her friend's questioning of her new found occupations had left Hermione feeling a bit insecure.

Insecure indeed. The very first issue she co-edited was the magazine's bestselling edition, he reflected with a huff.

Most recently, they were going to do a spread on Draco Malfoy. Given both the editors had been tortured at Malfoy Manor, they hoped that their confidence in Draco's defection status would help his position. It was generous of them, and he had told Draco as much.

It was at that precise moment Draco Malfoy chose to appear in his fireplace.

"Hello, Severus." He dusted himself off on the rug.

"Mr. Malfoy, to what do I owe the pleasure of having you be the one to shatter my peaceful afternoon?"

Draco smiled weakly. "Sorry, sir." He did not leave. Severus abandoned the letter he was reading.

"Have you seen it? It's just come out." The blonde asked.

"No. I've not."

Draco tossed him a _Quibbler_. There was a big section about some mythical creature and an interview with world renowned naturalist Scamander on the plausibility given new evidence… Draco Malfoy was pictured on the front looking his best, not scowling or sneering either. Severus half wondered how they had managed to get the picture of him.

"It's a good photo."

"Lovegood took forever with that." He snipped. "But it didn't turn out too bad."

Severus raised his brow somewhat in curiosity as he opened it to read the article.

Everything was in there. Not only his own vouching for Draco, as well as the Headmistress and the famous Harry Potter, which alone seemed enough, but also details of his new position in the ministry made their way into the article, as well as Draco's participation in the debacle with that bleeding pus pocket Rex Forthright.

"Was your mother pleased?" The potions master asked at last.

"Oh, you'll soon hear all about that. Mother is insisting on having a garden party, full formal affair. She's inviting everyone who is anyone."

"She presumes I'll be there?"

Draco nodded. "Worse than that," He dared a little smirk. "She wants you to accompany our cousin."

"That infernal woman who tried to give herself to me on your lawn?" He asked with disgust.

Draco shook his head, voice rising in surprise. "She did what? Can't say that I'm terribly surprised."

"I will come if I must, but I shalln't do that."

"She'll be terribly insulted." Draco said, concerned. "And mother will be angry."

"Really, Draco!" He stood, annoyed. "You are the man of Malfoy Manor now, are you not? When on earth is someone going to do something without taking orders from Narcissa Malfoy?" Draco seemed shocked, so the older man softened somewhat. "She is a very good mother and very loyal to your father; I'll give her that. But you are a man, Draco, and you need not let her torment you with guilt. Your father in answering for his mistakes and he's lucky he did not get worse than he did."

"He might be getting out, you know." Draco barely breathed as if afraid to jinx it. "Not for sure, but he helped with the Carrow business. Potter said," he still said the name dipped in loathing. "If I could get father to cooperate it could lessen his time, maybe he being the savoir and everything could get him some special conditional leave."

"And?" He asked, honestly curious.

"He has a hearing date." Malfoy shrugged.

"Well done." He offered dully. "No wonder your mother feels like throwing a party." Severus swished his wand to get them tea.

"You must come." Draco said. "It will be awful without you there."

He forced a small smile. "I will join you, as I said, but I won't throw myself into the clutches of that woman."

Draco laughed. "She won't eat you, you know?"

"I don't trust it." He scowled. "And besides, I could choke to death of her perfume."

"Well, I suppose I could convince mother you'll be an eligible bachelor and what with your award recently you'd certainly draw some people out." He fingered an artifact on the mantel. "There's a bit in there about you as well."

"Indeed." He had already read it twice. "Draco," he began slowly.

"Yes?" Malfoy was cautious.

"I do not think I could bear the evening with a gaggle of women battling your mother's cousin for my attention. You know they will not succeed."

"But why not?" He asked bravely, turning to his mentor. "You surely cannot think you'll be alone forever? If you can't be happy, there's no hope for the rest of us." He looked down at the carpet, crushing a small spider with the toe of his boot.

Severus laid each of his next words out carefully. "I am not alone."

Draco's head snapped up, his brow scrunched.

He supposed he had better get it over with. "I am seeing someone, in a manner of speaking." He said in his typical slow manner. Draco's eyes widened. Severus sighed. He was not making this easier. "Surely," He nearly spat, "surely your cousin told you I was."

"She said something to that effect, but she –we assumed it was an excuse."

"I see." They assumed then that he could not be with someone without their meddling and was therefore lying to escape any intimacy. He tried not to be insulted. Draco must have seen he was in earnest then.

"Well, then you must bring your…girlfriend."

Severus cringed at the word.

"Or whatever. Bring your date."

"You may wish to reconsider that." He smirked inwardly.

"Nonsense, the more the merrier."

"It's Granger."

"Where?" Draco's eyes flickered to the door.

"No. You misunderstand me." Severus was patient. "It's Granger."

"What's Granger?"

'Really! Was the boy always this daft?' Severus thought. "I'm seeing Granger."

"I don't see her." He glanced around the room. "Are you feeling alright? You—" The realization slapped him in his pale, little face, wiping away the smugness. If it was possible, he might have gone paler. "No." He shook his head in disbelief. "No."

"Really, Draco. It's not as it someone has died."

"Someone has. The Severus Snape I know would never be caught fraternizing with a frizzy headed, bossy, know-it-all, little mudblood."

"Which is precisely," He spoke over him, towering over as well. "Why you should invite Hermione."

"Hermione?" He spat as if he'd swallowed something bitter unexpectedly.

"Hermione," He inclined his head. "To your little garden party. If you really want to be accepted and forgiven your sins, people will expect you to invite the girl whose life you saved. I assume you'll be inviting Potter. He'll be more inclined to come if you invite his friends."

"Well, I was going to invite Longbottom and that _Looney_ Lovegood."

"Good. And Mr. Weasley."

Draco had to sit down. "Those- that red headed, rag-tag hoard? Severus, I couldn't." He struggled to breathe.

"Mr. Weasley Senior works at the ministry and is a member of the Order of Phoenix, while the younger Mr. Weasley is friends with Hermione, Potter, and Longbottom. His exclusion will be conspicuous."

"Alright." He gave in, desperately looking around the carpet for some other possible solution. Any other possible solution. "I'll invite Arthur Weasley, Percy, and Ronald." He ground out the last word. "But they must come properly dressed, if Potter has to buy them robes himself!"

"You will have to speak to Potter about that." Severus told him, bored flipping through the ludicrous stories in the magazine.

"Well, you're no help." Draco threw at him.

"I promised to come, and bringing Granger will help you. We have worked together on the potion, after all. I'm not even sure she will accept my invitation. She was tortured in your house, if you recall."

At this, he had nothing to say.

"Oh, and it is my understanding Miss Ginevra Weasley has recently been added to the Holly Harpies quidditch team."

"No." Draco breathed.

"Indeed. So you might as well invite the bunch."

"My house, my proper home infested with those…"

"Traitors?" He challenged, raising an eyebrow. He sighed. "At least they are purebloods."

"There's no end to surprises, is there?"

"It would seem not." He pursued the articles, hoping if he ignored the young man long enough, he'd go away, like an insect.

"Well, I'd best be off. I can count on you then?" The blonde said at last.

"You may."

"Thank you."

Before he could throw down the ashes and lite the green, Snape stopped him. "Draco, you're doing well for yourself in this strange new world. Your mother cannot let go… but you are doing as your father would: adapt, survive, carry on the Malfoy name and keep it respected."

Draco nodded his thanks, looking less stressed than he had in a while. He shook it again in disappointment though just before he disappeared, mouthing the word: 'Granger.'

* * *

"I've received another invitation." He announced as they continued their work as usual. She had shyly thanked him for a great night out, to which he bowed his head in acknowledgement. That was it.

"To speak somewhere?" Hermione asked, skimming the notes he'd made and handed over to her.

"Not exactly."

She looked up, curious enough to pause.

"To a party, and I'd really rather not go alone."

Her brow raised in surprise. "It must be some party if you're daunted."

"Indeed. Narcissa Malfoy is trying desperately to claw her back into the good graces of wizarding society. Apparently, that is best achieved through summer garden parties, by having people in strangling fabric parade about in strangling heat exchanging niceties."

"You're not going?" She said as if the idea were unthinkable.

"I am." He inclined his head. "I promised Draco."

She nodded in understanding, returning to her notes.

He cleared his throat. "I understand Harry will also be invited."

"Hmm." She said, scrawling something in the margin. Damn her studiousness. He tried again. "It would be considerably more bearable if you'd accompany me." Her eye flickered up to him in an instant. "Unless, of course, you find it too difficult…"

"Wouldn't Draco and his mother have a problem with that?"

"Not if he wants to be successful in his endeavors. As I said, some of your friends will also be there as will I, and the party is to take place entirely within the gardens, but I know what memories that house holds for you."

"No worse than for you." She was quick to point out. "It's a formal affair?" She chewed her lip.

"It is." She was certainly taking her time. "Well?" He lost patience.

"Well what?"

"I've just asked you to come with me."

"Oh! Sorry, I'm a bit scatteredbrained at the moment. You're right. It would be difficult for me to be there and to be around Malfoy and his friends. Not to mention I'd have to go dress shopping again," she added jokingly, "Last time nearly killed me."

He did not smile.

"A formal party. I'm not good at formal or parties."

"I share your suffering." He said darkly.

She offered him a small, sad smile. "Well, then I can't abandon you to the wolves, can I? I'll accompany you." She smirked mischievously. "But you owe me." She sucked her lower lip slightly. He wondered if she knew how flirtatious she was being, perched on his couch in her little sundress.

"And however can I repay you?" He asked playfully.

"You'll think of something, I'm sure."

To his disappointment, she gave no hint. Perhaps another date?

He too disappeared behind a book. "I read your article on me." He drawled from behind it.

"Luna wanted to do more, but I told her you wouldn't appreciate it."

"Then I do owe you my thanks."

"As usual," Said Granger coyly, biting her lip in a fight against the smile curling. He spied it from behind his book. "In my debt."

"Not for long." He threatened.

* * *

"Harry, are you going to Draco's party?" Hermione asked him.

"I guess so." He tossed up and caught a snitch, lying on his back on the floor with his feet propped up on the couch. She was curled up with a book.

"Severus asked me to go." She chewed her lip. "I feel like I should. I did vouch for Draco Malfoy. It will certainly look cowardly if I don't show up at his house while all of you do."

"I think Neville is going and Ron." Harry said.

"Weasleys?" She murmured. "He _has_ changed."

"Pretty sure he was forced into that. Ron swears he's not going. I know George already told Malfoy exactly what he could do with his invitation, but Percy might go and Mr. Weasley."

She nodded.

"Mrs. Weasley? Bill or Ginny?"

"Dunno." He shrugged.

"I wonder if he asked Luna. It would only be polite considering what she's done for him. And she's pureblood."

"Yes, but Luna was held captive there for a while. Might not be somewhere she'd want to be again."

"True." She admitted.

Ron entered, his brother George in tow.

"Speaking of them." She teased.

"Have you asked her yet?" Ron said to Harry, who shook his head, hair falling into his eyes.

"Asked me what?" She blinked.

Harry sat up on his elbows as she moved her feet to make room for George on the sofa. He gestured for her to stretch her feet back into his lap, but she politely shook her head, fighting a blush. Goodness she was ridiculous. "Hermione," Harry began. "You remember that ring Rex sent you?"

"Yes." She said carefully, shutting her book.

"Do you think I could borrow it?"

"Sure. Whatever for?"

"I was going to try to trace it back to its original owner, doing some digging on Rex."

"Okay." She hopped up. "I'll go and get it."

She had not worn it; the thing still sat in a black box in her room. When she opened it, she found she wanted to look away from its shine. If she did not know better, she'd think it was Horcrux or still cursed. She stared at the golden surface, the many-angled face of the ruby. It caught the light, contrasting like a fire in the night against its velvety black box.

"Hermione?" Harry called, leaning against her doorframe.

"Here," She thrust it at him. "Take it. Gives me the creeps."

"Thanks. I'll get it back to you. Looks pretty valuable." He took it out to examine it. "Any idea what the hex was?"

"Severus," He looked up at that. "_Snape_ said it was drowning. His was burning, which is strange because you'd think it would be reversed. Fire is Gryffindor colors and snakes are more associated with water."

"That is ironic." He gazed at it, turned it over in the light.

"Whoa, look at that thing." Ron commented from behind him. "Got to be worth a fortune." He looked over Harry's shoulder.

"It looks really old. This is what Rex had?" George asked. She nodded as he too examined it. "Must have gotten it from his mother's side. Funny he had both though. What would he be doing with both?"

"Dunno." Harry said. She was watching them, their eyes fixed on the jewel. After a moment, she pulled her attention off it, snapping her fingers under their noses.

"Snap out of it." She told them.

"It's just really…beautiful." Ron said.

"Maybe it's best you take it to work and do more research on it, Harry. Snape may have removed the curses, but there is something not right about that thing, guys."

"Why do you say that?" Ron asked.

"Because," George answered, his voice serious. He was looking at something across the room: the clock. "We've been staring at it for ten minutes."

"Put it away, Harry." Ron said quietly.

Hermione hugged her arms to herself as he shut the box saying, "Already on it, mate."

"You really think Rex did that alone?" George asked.

"Seems unlikely." Hermione breathed. "But Carrow is away. Who else could be helping?"

"You forget, Harry, _two_ people attacked May." Ron pointed out.

"Maybe you should look more into Rex's relatives, Harry." Hermione suggested. "If he's pureblood, he's probably cousins with everyone else. And maybe check out his dad."

"I've been ordered to stop looking into it." He admitted.

"So?" She smiled. "When has that ever stopped you before?"

Harry returned her grin, as did George. "That's our girl." He said.

Ron shook his head, grinning but pretending to disapprove, crossing his arms across his chest. "We've been a bad influence on her."

* * *

"I think Harry's going to that party."

"Wonderful." He replied when she told him. He knew he sounded about as excited about it as he would be if she announced Harry was coming for Christmas and was planning on hugging him.

"I'll probably go shopping with Luna again, this time in a muggle shop, for something over the next weekend, so I won't be able to meet."

"Are you sure that's wise?" He asked testily.

"Certainly worked out just fine last time." She told him. "Ginny's away and I've no idea what I should wear to this event."

"Don't look at me," He said, ornery as ever. "I'm hardly an expert on witch fashions."

"Neither is Luna." She admitted. "I'll look at _Witch Weekly_ I guess."

He said nothing, just scowled at his book. "Severus?" She began tentatively.

"Yes?"

"Are you angry?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"You sound angry."

"Well, I'm not." He snapped.

"Very well." She propped her book up on her knees again.

"Severus?" She tried again a few moments later.

"Yes?" He hissed.

"I was just wondering…before when you had to cancel, but then we met anyway, when you asked me to accompany you to the convention,"

"Yes." He urged her to get to the point.

"What were the plans you canceled?"

He blinked at her, not answering right away.

"A job interview." He replied dryly.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"I just did not know you wanted to leave Hogwarts."

"I don't. I'm exploring other options. I don't want to leave nor do I want the sum of my life to be spent trying to teach spoiled brats how to brew a simple draft and keeping them from melting one another."

"I see." She fell silent. "Sorry, I asked."

"I'm…not feeling well, if you must know." He admitted.

"I'm sorry. We don't have to do this today." Her irritation vanished, and she closed her book.

"We are getting nowhere." He tossed the book aside.

"You're just getting frustrated." She shook her head. "Let's take a break. I'll make you some tea and get out of your hair."

He relaxed at her understanding nature. He always underestimated her empathy. When she returned, he apologized. "I should not have snapped at you. Forgive me."

"It's fine." She said, handing him his tea. He tugged loose his shirt, feeling hot. She hesitated, sucking her lip. He did not miss the glance down at his exposed chest. "I know you're perfectly capable of looking after yourself," she prefaced. "But is there anything else I can get you before I go?"

"No. Thank you."

She nodded. "I'll be off then." She collected her things as he sipped his tea, tasting lemon and honey. He was reminded of her caring for him before, following the battle... in all ways so careful. He watched her, wondering why they had shared so much and yet remained such polite acquaintances at their work. He caught her hand as she went by, now free of her sling.

Maybe it was the fever speaking. "I want to make it up to you." She wasn't breathing, he was sure. "Let me surprise you."

"When?" She all but gasped.

"You said you won't be able to work next weekend, shopping and Potter's birthday. What about after party at Malfoy's?"

She nodded. "I'd love to."

"Good." He let her go, his head swimming. He had to press on his eyes to relieve some pressure, blinding him.

Next to his ear, he felt the whisper as much as heard it: "Feel better, Severus."

There was a light kiss on his cheekbone, and she was gone before he could say. "Thank you."

* * *

A/N: A party, a date, and many more surprises to come. Do take a second to review please. Let me know your thoughts.

Yours,

Elsie


	32. Wisteria

Disclaimer: I don't own HP, and I make no money from this. Just fun. Don't sue.

* * *

A/N: I just wrote some serious stuff for this story (few chapter ahead), and it got a little rough... more than a little sad. This chapter, however, is all smiles I think. I counted three or four. Enjoy :) Thanks for reading.

* * *

Chapter 32: Wisteria

* * *

Hermione Granger had underestimated the work she would have to do on the book to prove to Severus it could eventually be completed. She worked on the table of contents to simply things, with a breakdown of potions featured within each chapter by name. Hopefully, this way he'd see they had done nearly half of them, albeit out of order, so far.

Second, she had under estimated the difficulty of the smooth process Luna had exhibited in publishing _The Quibbler_. By the time she had reset the printer twice, wasted a massive amount of materials, and barely saved several orders that were late or mixed up, she was in tears of frustration and was literally pulling out her hair.

Once the crisis was averted, she began shelling through a mountain of reading of submitted articles, having to write to Luna about how much to pay each one and so forth from the magazine vaults. There were also orders for add space to be filled, and those were filling up quickly thanks to sales. This did not even begin the task of the layout, which had to be organized yet interesting. She really could use Luna's help there.

Yet Hermione had a few of her own ideas for future posts. Luna had said doing a write up on house elves would be fine, so she had been drafting that, waiting to hear back from the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures as well as magical legal authorities and Minister Kingsley.

Then there was the chance to do something on muggleborns: interviewing a few muggle born students, highlighting some little known facts about you-know-who's lineage, and disproving things circulated by the past ministry. She'd be talking to George and Arthur Weasley about how using muggle technology and medicine for inspiration can aide magic.

When she wasn't knee deep in ink at Luna's, stopping by the Burrow to say hello and recover with a cup of tea, she was knee deep in ruined books, a sort of graveyard, sorting through records with Mr. Welling.

"You don't have to pay me, but I'm going to help." She had put her foot down, nearly making the old man's eyes water.

What they could recover of books, she organized. What they could gather of records, she tried her best to repair. There was cleaning to be done, magically and by hand. A few hours and here and there she put into helping Flourish and Blotts anyway she could. After days of this, it seemed she'd only gone through half of what she'd hoped of the bog. So, third, she underestimated the damage done by magical fire to precious books. The work took an emotional toll.

Fourth, she had greatly underestimated exactly how much she was dreading the Malfoy's garden party. She put off preparing for it until the very last minute. She had three old editions and four of the most recent additions of _Witch Weekly_ as well as one muggle magazine for ideas and still had no idea what she was doing.

She did not want to mention it to Severus, but since she lost her job at the bookstore, Hermione had basically no income. She received a little from each issue of _The Quibbler_ and had no bills, but still. Dress robes could be very pricey, and Malfoy would die if she came in something she had worn before or something muggle. Besides, wearing the dress she wore at school when she was fourteen was hardly the way to be seen with her teacher.

She wondered, since he had asked her to accompany him and they had been on a date if he would introduce her as… his girlfriend? The word seemed impossible coming from Severus and somehow quite silly.

* * *

"Happy birthday, Harry!" She shouted as she arrived at the Burrow.

"There she is." Ron smiled broadly and she felt a wave of fondness for him. "You can blow out the candles now, Harry." Hermione gave a laugh and shake of her head as Ron looked hungrily at the cake Mrs. Weasley had prepared.

"Hello, Hermione." Mr. Weasley greeted happily.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley." He hugged her.

"Good to see you. Harry tells me you got an invitation as well. Are you attending the Malfoy's garden party?"

"Afraid so." She told him. "I've no idea what to wear or anything. I feel a bit ridiculous having a party… there."

"You don't have to go, surely."

"Oh, I don't mind. I just wish I was a bit more fashionable, knowing they'll already be judging me."

"Oh, do you have a dress yet?" Fleur interrupted, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. Though radiant as ever she looked as though she would pop any second and winced when she moved, holding her bulging stomach. "You simply must out do them all, 'ermionee!" She told her. Hermione smiled as harry blew out his candles and the boys attacked the cake.

"Actually," Hermione inched closer. "Fleur, I could really use your advice."

"Harry, dear!" Mrs. Weasley hurried over. "Harry, a letter from Ginny's just arrived. I'm sure she sends her love, and she'd be here if she could." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley." He said.

"What advice?" She asked in her lovely accent. "I'd love to help."

"Going to a formal pureblood garden party."

"Malfoy's party?"

She nodded. "I've been looking into some make up styles and hair things, but I'm rubbish with hair and don't have much makeup."

"Oh!" She stood so suddenly Hermione thought she might be in labor. "I 'ave such makeup! I cannot use it because of it has been breaking me out, but you can 'ave all of it."

"Oh no, you don't have to—"

"No, no. Come up the stairs. We are friends, no? Practically sisters." Hermione stopped a blush as the beautiful blonde dragged her upstairs. For a second, she grabbed her protruding belly and winced, but went on as if nothing happened. "You simply _must_ look the best there. What are you wearing?"

"I um," She chewed her lip. "Haven't bought anything else." Fleur stared at her as if she had admitted to eating kittens. "I wasn't sure what was appropriate and since the bookstore burned down..." Fleur gave a curt nod already moving to her closet. "Oh no, Fleur, I couldn't."

"Nonsense. I can't wear any of these."

An onslaught of silk and taffeta flew from the wardrobe the other girl had expanded inside with Hermione's own go-to charm. She smiled as the bed was covered with things Fleur thought would be flattering. There was no point in saying they wouldn't fit: magic.

It could have been nice having sisters.

"Now, how about an empire waist?"

Hermione found herself nodding eagerly. With a swish of her wand, half the selection flew to ceiling. Fleur did not bother to look away as Hermione stripped down to her underwear, thankful at least her bone was healed.

"Oh, yes, yes, very nice." Fleur remarked on the single shoulder strapped dress. "Now to find a more flattering color."

Carefully, she pursed through the selection, holding them up to Hermione's skin, her face and hair. Hermione watched in the mirror, learning. She agreed with every single one of the choices she made, leaving the fabric hovering midair, and all those she disregarded.

Fleur was so good at this, naturally, and Lady Malfoy would have to like it, having transferred from France herself. Her style was a bit more posh and a little less risqué than what Ginny could pull off and a great deal less eccentric than Luna's taste. Hermione trusted her completely and felt much more comfortable than she had.

"It's a hard choice. The violet is flattering, but the yellow. I thought it would wash you out, but you like a sun beam! We could do so much with your make up."

Hermione stared at herself in the mirror, her hair pulled back from her face. It was the softest yellow imaginable, almost cream. She looked like a honeysuckle, her legs peeking out at the bottom, her neck partially exposed with the halter top, the thin silky shawl on her shoulders. Fleur made it fit like a dream as she admired the contrast with her brown eyes and hair.

"I have small white heels." Fleur told her, summoning them. "No heels for me, I'm afraid. And you simply must wear pearls."

"I have my mothers." Hermione answered. "And a hair pin."

"Perfect. What, er, are you planning to do with your hair, Hermione?" She asked innocently.

Hermione gave her a defeated look. "Honestly, whatever you say." Fleur laughed. "Can I wear it up?"

"Of course." Fleur purred. "Oh, I've missed doing this with my sister." She kissed Hermione's cheek, wiping away a tear. "Damn ze hormones. Here, I will show you two quick spells for your hair up. You will look positively angelic!"

And truth be told, the second time someone knocked on their door to ask if they wanted to join the party, Hermione had to agree.

Bill poked his head inside. "Everyone decent?"

"Well, it wouldn't matter now, would it?" Fleur asked.

"Your wife was just saving me." Hermione told him. He raised an eyebrow as Fleur clutched her stomach again and sat.

"Sweetheart?" Bill was at her side in a second.

She worked harder to draw breath, but stared determinedly at the floor. "It's been happening for a while now, but,"

"A while?"

"Tell 'arry," She sucked in more air.

"Yes?"

"Tell 'arry, I think he will have to share his birthday from now on." Bill lit up and kissed Fleur pointedly before rushing from the room. Hermione had an only a moment to change and pack the dress, shoes, and makeup in her purse before several people returned.

Mrs. Weasley bustled into the room first. "It's alright, dear." She assured Fleur, confident. "It's alright. Hermione, dear, would you go and get some sheets from the linen closet?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley." Hermione stepped into the hall out of the now cramped room and summoned them. She passed them to Bill, gave Fleur a hopeful smile, and retreated downstairs to put on some hot water in case she needed it as well.

Meanwhile, Hermione cleaned up the rest of the kitchen, busying herself while Bill paced and the boys sat amusing themselves in the den. Hours passed. Hermione thought of going back to Grim, but could not see the point.

Eventually, everyone handed over Harry's gifts. She had gotten him a book for making lesson plans. He smiled, tucking it away without showing the others. Ginny sent him a yearly pass to her games and some fan gear, which he proudly donned. The goofy smiles on their faces were wiped clean as a door upstairs opened and strangled yell escaped, grating their inner ears.

They gulped.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley hurried down the stairs. "Hermione, I need you."

"Me?" She shrunk.

"Yes you, dear. There isn't another woman around with Luna and Ginny both gone. You'll have to help me." She couldn't argue with that.

Bill was there, sitting behind Fleur and looking nearly as exhausted. She was pretty, even frowning, sweaty, and in pain. Still, Hermione instinctively wiped the other girl's face with a cool, damp towel. Fleur tried to smile in thanks before she clenched her teeth tightly shut with what Hermione assumed was a contraction.

It was only a few minutes later when the next one came.

Fleur turned on her side with the help of Bill.

"Hermione, I need you down here." It was her turn to gulp. Surprisingly, her desire to help Fleur escape the pain that had her splitting their ear drums was enough to wash away every other thought and discomfort. She knelt with Mrs. Weasley as they helped support the part of Fleur's body nearly hanging off the bed, maneuvering her as the girl panted and swore in French.

As uncomfortable as it was, her knees curled under her cramping and her arms wanting to drop the woman's leg, Hermione daren't complain. Finally, the head was visible— or Mrs. Weasley was shouting that anyway.

Hermione felt filled with fear for some unexplainable reason. She shifted as Fleur yelled, pushing. Time that had drug along moved quickly then, too quickly. Hermione had to help catch the baby, pull it out, with a load of other mess as well.

It didn't matter. There was a teeny tiny human being waling her red little head off right in front of her and despite how alarmed she was by the blood and the screaming and the newness of everything, she found herself choking out sobs and laughs like everyone else.

"Wash her off, Hermione." Mrs. Weasley gently instructed. "I have to make sure she finishes."

Hermione nodded. The cord was magically cut already, so she took the greatest care to crawl over to the basin and wash and magic the newest Weasley clean. She seemed angry about it all, highly inconvenienced. Hermione laughed, watching her little face scrunched and unwilling to open her eyes.

"Victorie." Fleur panted as she accepted the baby. Hermione shied away, giving them privacy and helping Mrs. Weasley clean. In seconds the matriarch was yelling downstairs, "Arthur! Arthur, get up here."

Hermione took the opposite stairs as to not slow him for even one minute. Ron, Harry, George, and Percy stood when entered. Ginny was still taking off her coat, anxious. The sky was dark but full of stars, windows open on the summer night. Hermione eyed the clock. "She's perfect." Hermione tearfully reported.

* * *

Severus had already pulled himself from the clutches Aurelia twice and that blasted Hermione was still nowhere to be found.

"Draco," he snapped coming upon the host with his most pompous smile speaking to others.

"Excuse me." He said politely. "Severus! Have you had some ice? Warm out here isn't it?"

"Sweltering."

"There are cooling spells."

Snape glared at him.

"What's the matter?" The blonde asked him. "Date stand you up?"

"I'm beginning to wonder." He spoke mostly to the rose bushes.

"Never fear." Draco clapped him on the back, sipping some disgusting and equally expensive. "That would be stupid, and we all know whatever else we might say of Granger, stupid definitely does not fit." He looked past Severus, causing the taller man to turn.

There she was, smiling and being led out onto the carefully manicured green of the Malfoy's obscenely large home. It was difficult to see her properly. The sun was very bright and for some reason she was wearing white, no yellow. She glowed like a damn sunbeam.

He did not want to touch her, soil her, even though she headed directly towards him, smiling as if she weren't tortured yards—many yards—from where she stood. The shadow of that house did not touch her, not figuratively or literally.

"Hello, Severus." She greeted him, clearly unsure what to do with herself so she gratefully accepted a champagne and hors d'oivrese. He noted she changed the champagne into water before sipping it.

"Draco." She nodded.

"Granger," His eyes flickered away then to her. "Glad you made it."

She laughed lightly at that. "No one can hear you." She said. "Please tell your mother it is a beautiful party, save her having to speak to me."

Severus cocked his head slightly at her cheer. Draco nodded appreciatively and was gone. "You're in a good mood." He remarked.

"Fleur Weasley had her baby. Pretty little girl." She sipped again. "What?" She asked, beaming in the sunlight.

He realized he was staring. You were not supposed to look into the sun he recalled. "You look lovely." He offered.

"Thank you." She took a step towards him.

"Severus." A gentle hiss interrupted them.

"Aurelia," He greeted unhappily.

The blonde looked down her nose at Hermione, but she should not have. It made her look like weather marble next to the radiant younger woman in her string of pearls. "And you must be his assistant."

Before Severus could correct her, Hermione had agreed. "Yes, ma'am." Extending her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"The muggleborn," She swallowed the word. "That our Draco saved?"

"Yes."

"I'm his mother's cousin, Aurelia."

"Aurelia means gold, does it not? It's very pretty."

"Ms. Black, please."

"Black gold." Hermione commented mostly to herself.

"And what about Hermione? What does that mean?"

"Not sure." She admitted. "It was in A Winter's Tale. My parents met at the theatre…" He did not know that, but the rest of her story was lost.

"I see. Well, I must scold you, Hermione." Snape bristled wanting to teach his young friend how important it was to stop such condescending in its tracks and not permit it strictly because one is her elder, not once she is an adult. But Hermione held her tight smile in place and nodded and what promised to be an insult thinly veiled in a joke.

"You have been working with our Severus day and night, keeping us from enjoying his company. We've had scarcely a dinner with him, but enjoyable evenings, weren't they Severus?" She purred, clutching her talons around his upper arm.

He looked pointedly at his limb, snatching it from her grasp. Thankfully, Arthur Weasley was approaching behind Hermione. Unfortunately, she did not notice.

"Well can you blame me?" She said conversationally. "It's not often a woman comes across a man with such…stamina." He could not believe his ears. Something about her innocent outfit made him snort as she said the next the words. "And his sheer size…I'm surprised you'd be so good as to share him at all, you know, with a mudblood."

Aurelia pulled away from him as if stunned, gasping audibly. "I would never, ever share a man with such a—a"

"Hermione, good to see you again." Mr. Weasley interrupted, wearing simple black dress robes. "You look lovely." She blushed violently, but hugged him all the same. The man looked awkward and concerned at once. Severus kept his face steeled under Arthur's questioning glance, giving a nod of greeting. No one dared say a word.

Thankfully, Aurelia Black stormed away, watching the eye of Narcissa and her crowd. He could not bring himself to care.

"Keeping you away day and night, am I?" She asked lowly, cocking an eyebrow as they walked towards the tent where upbeat music played.

"I may have exaggerated our work hours to escape a few unpleasant dinners." He admitted trying to sound as innocent as he might.

"Are you really sleeping with that woman?" She asked seriously, bringing him up short.

"I'm insulted you would think I had such bad taste." Her smile half returned at that.

"That's not really an answer."

"Never."

She nodded in acceptance and said nothing more just as they came upon Percy and Ronald Weasley standing with Longbottom under the white tent.

"Hello, professor!" They greeted him.

"Congratulations on your award." Percy Weasley stepped forward to shake his hand. "Glad to have the opportunity to tell you in person. Such a breakthrough. Are you working on any other new potions?"

But Severus was not really listening. Ronald Weasley was gapping at Hermione. "You look amazing." He told her as eloquent as a donkey, his jaw actually slack.

"Thank you, Ron. You look nice as well."

He could not be sure if she was just being polite as she let him kiss her cheek, his hand resting lightly on her lower back. "Can you believe we're here? Guess it's really over, huh?"

She looked at her friend for a moment, leaning somewhat into him. Perhaps Draco was right, Severus thought, about there being too many Weasleys around. Longbottom had joined and was elaborating on his parent's slow progress, raving about Severus to the point he wanted to run. Hermione was enveloped by Weasleys, talking, he gathered, about the baby. It was easy to see everyone thought she was beautiful, especially her ex. He lingered close to her as Longbottom continued to sing his praise.

"You're embarrassing him, Neville." She rescued him at last.

"Sorry." Longbottom returned sheepishly.

"I'm glad to hear your parents are doing somewhat better."

"Thank you, sir."

It seemed time, though they had not discussed it, for him make a stand before his Hermione was carried off by the crowd, so he took her forearm silently in his hand. She nearly jumped in surprise, but brought her hand up to rest on his arm formally.

"Shall we step away?"

She nodded and the walked towards the shade of a tree not far from the tent. "It's somehow cooler out here." She huffed, her face glistening a bit.

"Imagine how I feel." Wizard robes were a great deal heavier than her wisp of a dress.

"Oh no, this was your idea. You get no pity." She teased.

"Hermione," He stepped forward to face her.

"Yes?" He wasn't sure what he was going to say. He needed to make himself clear. He did not want her carrying on with Mr. Weasley. He did not want her carrying on with anyone. He appreciated her being there, standing with him, saving him from extended conversation, for not needing to ask. She was searching his face for something again. '_Find it_!' He wished.

But instead, they were interrupted. Some foolish game was going on, and he had to explain the rules to Hermione, a magical sort of croquet. A horse was pranced out for Draco to show off, music began again. Hermione snuck off to walk along the maze of rose bushes, all overly full of large blooms. They passed, away from the crowd, under some arches draped in sweet smelling wisteria.

"I wish I could grow these." She said wistfully. "I love wisteria."

"Hermione!" Ronald Weasley approached, eyeing Severus skeptically. "We've been looking for you. Care to dance?"

She was caught. He refused to let go of her arm.

* * *

Hermione stood like a deer in the headlights, pulled between Ron and Severus. There was nothing she could do. One was going to be hurt, and while Ron might more easily recover from injury, he may also cause a scene. Her mind, usually spinning wildly, was stock still.

She exhaled audibly as Harry pushed past, "Sorry I'm late. I need to talk to the lot of you."

Malfoy, Severus, Hermione, Ron, Arthur, and Neville stepped aside into a tight circle, a refreshing breeze fluttering their robes as Harry spoke in low tones, though Snape had already cast charms for their privacy. "I got called in for an emergency meeting." He wiped his brow dotted with sweat, looking to Hermione then away.

"Why didn't we hear about it?" Ron asked.

"No one was supposed to hear about it. Suffice it to say, after I got word what was going on I used my name to get as far as I could and my cloak to get into the rest: the courtroom downstairs."

"A secret hearing?" Hemrione all but gasped. "That's—"

"Strange?" Harry asked.

"Not good." Said Ron at the same time.

"It gets worse." He warned them before jumping right to it. "Carrow just took full credit for the attacks, claims he forced Rex into it, held his father captive."

Hermione cringed, covering her mouth. "His story never made sense…"

"Yes, but he didn't need to lie to you." Neville observed.

"Or enjoy it." Snape spat.

"In the meantime," Harry continued. "Lucius Malfoy was dragged in and corroborated the plot. He helped us corner Carrow. Since Carrow's taking credit for the attack on Hermione and May, Malfoy is being released early, under special circumstances and restrictions…"

Draco visibly cheered as the other paid him a glance. No words were exchanged, and then Harry's next changed everything: "And so is Rex."

"What?" Severus was the first to hiss.

"He wouldn't dare go after her." Draco said at once. "I have to go tell mother about father."

"Don't you see, Malfoy?" Harry hissed, grabbing the host's arm and swinging him around. "This means something else is going on here. And if you know something,"

"I don't know anything."

"Any chance of re-establishing yourself is lost." Harry finished.

Draco stared at him, looking less whiney and more mature than she had ever seen him.

"I realize that, Potter." He said levelly. "I promise you, I will do everything I can to help you."

Harry nodded. "Actually, there is something you may be able to help me with. You wouldn't know anything about rings, would you? House rings?"

The looks on his face clearly said he had heard something. "Not here." He murmured. "After the party."

"When's the party over?" She asked reasonably.

"After the fireworks." He answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

* * *

A/N: I do apologize if I missed an error or two. I did edit this quickly. I'd love to know which parts you liked; hearing from you all absolutely makes my day! I thought this was a fun one but I'm a little worried how it came out. All feedback welcome. Next up, more party and that surprise for Hermione...

Yours,

Elsie


	33. Wet

Disclaimer: Don't own, just borrowing for fun.

* * *

A/N: My, my. Thank you for your wonderful reviews! I've never seen such strong demands for naughtiness. A very long chapter here, lots happens. ;)

* * *

Chapter 33: Wet

* * *

"My feet are killing me." She admitted sitting next to him on the stone steps and tugging them off. Her hair was falling askew from its up-do. He smiled, tucking it behind her ear. "Someone from _Witch Weekly_ asked me if we were here together or if I was with Ron."

He frowned. "What did you say?"

"That I was here with a lot of people." She shrugged. "They asked who I was seeing, so I naturally told them to mind their own business. I really don't like those people reporting on my love life, especially when I barely understand it myself." Her honesty surprised him.

His eyebrows raised. "And what do you _want_ to tell them?" He asked.

"Honestly? Nothing. I wish they did not care." That was not exactly what he meant.

"Mr. Weasley seemed very keen to be close to you."

"You mean Ron?" She narrowed one eye.

He nodded. Her face curled into a coy half smile as she looked out across the reflecting pool. Fireworks exploded against a barely darkened sky, seeming to spread across the reflecting pool in front of them.

"Are you jealous?" She did not look at him as she said that, the fireworks illuminating her skin with colors like stained glass.

He cleared his throat, unsure what to say. "Should I be?"

She frowned a bit, still watching the jumping frog made of lights as she slipped her toes into the cool water. "Well, of course not." She looked down, pulling grass from her toes. "Not with your _stamina_ and all…" She snorted.

He raised an eyebrow, saying slowly: "Don't forget my sheer size."

She burst into laughter after that, shaking her body.

"Should I be insulted?" He asked. "That you find that so amusing."

"I can't be believe I said that." She gasped through her laughter.

"Neither could she." He granted, leaning back on his elbows. Her own rested on her exposed knees, her dress hiked up her thighs a little so she could sit six inches or so from him. He wondered why she was keeping her distance. Was it her friends? Was it Ronald Weasley- though the thought was a tad insulting- or fear of them being seen together?

There was only one way to tell. He reached out, easily wrapping a hand around her waist, and pulled her closer to his side. She started a little at the contact but did not pull away. In fact, she nestled into his side comfortably. He was surprised at how nice it felt to be close with night being so warm.

Her hair, trying desperately to escape its Grecian hold, smelled sweetly. Her arm rested on his leg, her head on his shoulder as the fireworks show continued to the ooh and ahhs of the guests at the end of the glimmering pool. His entire body felt keenly aware of every point of contact, every light touch. "I suppose," he said quietly. "Draco's party was a success."

"Yes, I suppose so, but that's good for him. He's made a real effort." She muttered contentedly against his chest.

Yet again, he stared at her in amazement. "We are talking about the boy who ridiculed you throughout school? Who tortured you?"

"No." She told him pointedly. "We are talking about a man," she emphasized. "Whom saved me. He's not that boy any longer, and he's not his father."

"You are the most forgiving person I've ever met." He remarked, causing her to face him. He brushed the hair from her face, stroking her cheek as he had that night… that night she'd been at his door, stuttering at him to take her. Part of him hoped she had not been drinking that night. A rather wicked part of him.

"Or perhaps," she said, looking forwards, "I'm disturbed, like the ministry thinks. After all, look who I went to his party with—another Slytherin who never liked me."

"You don't think that." It was a question.

"Not really." She sighed. Did she mean she did not really think he never liked her or that she was disturbed? He supposed one 'not really' was sufficient.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Hermione!" The familiar voice of that redheaded dunderhead rang across the green, making her jump. He noted with disdain how she removed herself from his shoulder and stood, afraid to be seen with him. Rationally, he knew it was because of Mr. Weasley's temperament, but he could not help but feel stung at her shame.

"Harry's in the study with Malfoy. Would you apparate back with me?"

She sighed. The boy looked pathetic, shrugging the question. Clearly, he did not want to leave his friend there alone. Severus could not object to that, so he spared her the decision she was quickly having to make. "That may be safest." He said, standing behind her. She glanced back at him, his arms crossed and the face in place his customary expressionless one. As usual, she seemed to understand. "I'm staying back to try to talk to Draco." He nodded, making eye contact.

"Goodnight." She offered lightly. He thought she wanted to say something else, but she took Ron's arm, he noted with a little stab of feeling. Anger? Jealousy? He had not the time to think on it. He wanted to get into that study and find out what Malfoy knew about those rings…

* * *

It was hard to tell if it was Hermione's sobs or Harry's shouting that woke Ron, but judging by how awake he was once he stormed into the den, it might have been either.

"What is wrong? What's happening? Is someone hurt?"

"Just Hermione." Harry said darkly, pacing the length of the den.

Ron pulled back, flabbergasted, then knelt before her. She looked away from him, trying to wipe her tears, but more spilled out. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"I'll tell you what's wrong!" Harry snarled, every bit as angry as he had been his very first time in Grimmauld Place. He brandished the paper he had clenched in his hand just as Hermione tentatively handed Ron her tear-splattered copy, watching his face widen in horror.

There on the front page were she and Severus, practically cuddled up on the steps, fireworks exploding over their heads. The picture was snapped from behind, him looking straight ahead, her arm on him, head on his shoulder. Next to that, sharing the page, was another moving picture of Severus and that woman from the picnic-Aurelia Black. Her arms were around Severus' neck, her lips buried somewhere, his face blocked by hers. He had an arm on her…

The headline read: "Casualty of Heart?" It wasn't even clever.

Harry skipped to the article, spitting out each word: _"Poor Hermione Granger, heart and mind broken from the war, has been seduced by Albus Dumbledore's killer. And worse. She's been betrayed."_

His green eyes flickered to hers. She said nothing, just looked away ashamed. Ron seemed to have to sit down.

_"It seems Hermione Granger's reckless love life has been only one step on her spiral staircase out of control."_ Ron read in disbelief. Hermione hiccupped, or sobbed, she wasn't sure. Ron grimaced in sympathy, shooting her a sideways glance.

Harry read on in anger: _"Attorney for Rex Forthright, the young man accused of attacking Granger, states that: 'It was our opinion that Miss Granger suffers from paranoia due to her experiences fighting and being tortured. Rather than admit a member of the golden trio was tainted, those around her tried to hide Miss Granger away at Hogwarts, since she has no remaining family, even trying professor Snape's experimental brew to help her, but she still managed to concoct an elaborate tale of conspiracy and interpret her boyfriend Rex's advances as an attack, which of course led to Mr. Forthright trying to subdue her and being attacked and brutalized himself. Naturally, her friends took Miss Granger's side, but the Ministry took a harder look at the evidence and sentenced Mr. Forthright lightly as they could, though not lightly enough for such a promising young student and quidditch player. His future is over. We can only hope his is the only one."_

"Those bastards." Ron stood, his voice soft with disbelief. "That's it? That's their theory?"

Harry glared at the room as a whole, then continued. _"Hermione Granger's battle with another death eater, months later, destroyed several shops in Diagon Alley."_

The tears came again, and she tried buried her wet face. The skin was dry and stinging from the tears.

_"Further signs of her instability range from rejecting ministry positions to editing The Quibbler, an eccentric wizarding publication, living with her ex-boyfriend while she goes from man to man noncommittally, sources say heavy drinking, befriending ex Death Eaters, and now dating her former teacher."_ Again, Harry sparred her another glance she spotted from between her fingers.

_"After being seen together at Malfoy's garden party (see Witch Weekly for a play by play of the event of the season), it was noted that Granger was also seen trailing around behind him at the Potion Makers and Healers Convention, where he received an award,"_ She choked again on another humiliated sob. Harry raised his voice. "_And is rumored to even working for him on another project. While Granger followed him around at the garden party, tensions rose as his most recent fling, a mysterious, stunning blonde which sources reveal may be Aurelia Black –cousin of Narcissa Malfoy— was also present."_

He finished with a note of complete aggravation and the air of resignation in their absolute stupidity: _"Clearly, this comes as another blow to a girl who has already lost so much: her family, the chance at a career, and now her crush."_

She tried to scoff but it ended in a pathetic whimper, eyes full. She finished the last bit for him albeit shakily. _"We can only hope that Harry Potter has the power to wield in his young friend from the brink of disaster from her heart wrenching hurtle into self-destruction."_

"Stop crying, Hermione. It's rubbish." Harry tossed the paper into the fireplace and incinerated it with a single spell. He did not stop pacing but did not get more than a few steps before he turned and shouted, "Stop crying!"

"Back off, mate." Said Ron in surprise, shifting closer to her and putting an arm around her. She caved, greatly appreciating his offer and bawling into his shoulder. He petted her hair as one would pet an angry cat.

Harry kicked his footstool. "I'm missing something, and I don't know what. This Skeeter bullshit is not making things any easier."

"I don't know why I care if that's what everyone thinks." Hermione said in frustration.

"No one thinks that, Hermione." Ron told her softly. "No thinks you're with Snape, and no one thinks you're a nutter. You'd have to be a nutter to fancy Snape."

"I like him, Ronald." She admitted, sick of hiding.

"What?" He laughed a little.

"I like him!" She stood. "Or I did…or whatever, so hate me and get it over with!"

For a moment, Ron looked to Harry for some help, some sanity, some assurance it wasn't so, but finding none, he scrunched up his face in concentration and stared at the floor for a moment. Harry and Hermione again exchanged an expectant somewhat worried glance as Ron processed. His rubbed one fist thoughtfully as he finally spoke, "Hang on, you mean all that stuff in the paper about you and him…when you've been with him…you're always there…"

"We have been working together, but after I graduated I… kissed him. I suppose we've just been on one date…" She wrung her hands, sitting again. Was she being girlish expecting to be exclusive with him after one date?

"The potion convention?" Ron nodded.

"No." She shook her head. "One date besides."

"And he…I mean the two of you at the party yesterday…that-THAT greasy git!" He thundered.

"Ron,"

"No, Harry," He cut him off, slinging out his arm. "No. That jerk knew Hermione had a lot going on, _knew_ she liked him, and he's been carrying on with Malfoy's wrinkly old cousin? It's sick. It's –it's preposterous." She raised her eyebrow, impressed with his word choice. "That's _our_ Hermione, Harry. Bad enough to do be two-timing any girl, but he's lucky someone like her even gave his greasy, old, grumpy sack of bones a second glance." He argued logically. He was going to continue presumably insulting Snape, but he couldn't because Hermione leapt on him, nearly squeezing him to death.

"That's the nicest thing anyone's said about me in ages."

"Well, I—it was just true." He fumbled awkwardly. "He doesn't deserve you, Hermione. And if he thinks I hit him before…"

"Hang on," Harry interjected while she beamed at Ronald. He might be messy and silly, but maybe she had made a great mistake. She thought Severus respected her more, but if he had lied to her about that other woman, then clearly not. "Now, if he'd done this, I'll string him up myself. But we all know how skewed these articles can be."

"Hard to force them into each other's arms Harry." She shot blandly.

"True but maybe, just maybe, there's some explanation, and I don't have to kill him just yet. You should talk to him first because if you over react, you know he won't let it go. Besides, you have a right to know the truth. I swear, if he did hurt you, I will make him feel the worst he has ever felt." He threatened, voice deep and eyes flashing.

She nodded, a bit unnerved. "I just feel so ridiculous." She sighed. "I suppose I should get it over with. We are meant to be working today anyway."

* * *

"I thought you said you weren't sleeping with her."

"Excuse me?" Severus did not jump when Hermione emerged from his fireplace and stepped angrily forward, her voice constricted tightly with emotion.

Surprisingly, her outrage had not cooled when she'd arrived and seen him. "Not that I care, but you did deny it when I said those things to her. I thought she was just flirting. I thought I was doing you a favor. You could have said something, so I didn't look like quite such a –"

"Hermione," He stood. "What are you talking about?"

"This." She handed him the paper, crossing her arms and forcing her tears back.

He read it, grimacing. "You know better than anyone how that Skeeter woman can twist something."

She shook her head. "You can't twist a photo, Severus."

"Oh?" He challenged, taking a step forward. "What about the photo of you and Rex?"

Her face was no longer under her command; she had not been expecting _that _to be thrown in her face. Her voice crackled and trembled. She cursed it. "How—how could you? You know that picture is a large part of the reason they didn't—"

"Forgive me." He closed the small space between them. She shrunk back, well aware she was holding herself and looking at the floor. "I only meant to point out," His chest rumbled gently. "How far they are willing to take things out of context, how they can make something look. Malfoy's cousin insisted on walking me out from dinner and though I should have told her no, I was trying to mind my manners, naively thinking I was safe from her advances. This photo was taken when she pounced on me, for lack of a better word, and right before I rejected her."

"You did?"

"Clearly." He said through his teeth. He seemed to tire of her suspicions and turned, billowing his robes.

"Why didn't you mention it?" She nearly begged, frustrated.

"I did not think it important to mention."

She chewed her lip, desperately not wanting to chase him away by sounding childish and jealous, but she had right to know, as Harry had said.

"What did you say to her?" He slammed down his book. She was unbothered, their eyes meeting, locking, and remaining there. She rose to his challenge, but he did not move or speak. If he wanted to be stubborn then, she would leave him to it. So she turned to his fireplace and reached for the ashes before she heard his voice quietly.

"I told him I was seeing someone. I told Draco that person was you. I assume that was the reason for her behavior at her garden party."

She turned to him, her face contorted in pain and questioning. She wanted to repeat her question: why did you not say something to me before and avoid all this mess? But she knew it was pointless to repeat herself to him. He had said what he had to say. She nodded, or tried to, mostly her head just hung she supposed as she stepped into the fire.

But as she turned and drew breath to leave, she was yanked out of the fire and into his arms. "You're not just going to leave?" He breathed. She looked up into his face, searching. She needed to know, what she was not certain. Perhaps the question was: do you want me here? Maybe it was: am I safe? But perhaps, she was looking for the question to be asked. She was clueless.

"We have work to do."

She laughed, tearily. "Yes, work." She nodded, her arms balanced on his. "Is that what you want me for?" Her tone was playful, but her question was more sincere than she had meant to be.

"We could throw it all in the fire, for all I care." He said bluntly, pulling her closer against him so barely it was almost imperceptible, save her sobby laugh was more smothered.

"Then why am I 'always here' as my friends say?"

"Surely you know." He said. And for a few long, glorious seconds, he did not move at all. When he did let go, she felt his warmth go and he went to his seat to work as always. So did she. She wasn't going to let the chaos, the cheapness from the outside get into their room. It was nonsense. Severus Snape was solid. He was honest even when he was mean. He was cold, distant, solitary—not a player. Or at least, he was not as far as she knew. Had she really come to know Severus Snape, though? Or would anyone ever?

* * *

"That's enough work for today." He set aside his, and she scribbled, trying to finish her train of thought. Hands appeared on hers, pulling away the quills and papers. She began to protest, but those complaints were cut off by his lips on hers. His hands held hers hands gently, bent at the fingers. He stood but bent low to reach her mouth. A few kisses and then he sat beside her, pulling her onto his lap.

"Now," He said. "What's this about you not caring if I was in bed with this woman?"

She blushed. "Well, I—I just meant I didn't have a right to, to care." She finished lamely. He seemed to be enjoying making her nervous and blushing.

"Is that right?" His breath was warm on her neck and ear. She swallowed, nodded. "And what about this Mr. Weasley?"

"What about him?"

"He's interested in you."

"I don't think—"

"It was not a question, Hermione." He knew what saying her name like this was doing to her. He knew.

"I'm not interested in him."

"Good." She suppressed her reaction as best she could. Do not get your hopes up, Hermione. She told herself. Do not. "I want you to myself, is that clear?" His finger tickled her chin. She nodded, trying to swallow again. Other parts of her felt remarkably less dry. "But I suppose, if you do not care…"

"I do care." She admitted, daring herself to look him in the face. He was watching her carefully, his mask put away. "I don't want to share you."

He gave a little jerk, raising his brow as if to ask if she wanted to retract her wording. A part of her did, but she left them as they were, hanging in the air.

"Well," he raised the other eyebrow, tilting his head dismissively. "Now that you have me to yourself, what do you plan to do with me, Miss Granger?" He teased roughly in her ear.

"You're wicked." She told him. To her surprise, he threw back his head and laughed. His arms were fastened behind her as she sat almost sideways in his lap so she could see him properly. She stared at him a moment, then, barely daring to believe what had just transpired, she seized the moment of madness. She has always wanted to touch the angles of his face. So, tentatively, she did so. He closed his eyes as her hands traced his cheek and nose, cupped his cheek lightly. The skin was soft, so warm she thought his fever might be lingering. He had long, thick lashes, she observing. She touched his forehead, brow, watching the muscles relax.

And while his eyes were closed, she leaned in and pressed lips lightly to his. She pulled away as their lips clung together. He did not kiss her back and for a moment she felt an irrational thrill of fear. Had he come to his senses?

When his eyes opened, the black orbs were hot. They bore hard into her. He gave her one moment, then took her head in his hands and brought her face to his. He took her mouth, aggressive and impatient as he tasted her. She felt like she was melting in his grip on her arms, her waist, her thigh, as she moved against him, her tongue teasing his upper lip, sucking lightly nipping his bottom one, making him growl.

She wanted to purr at that, shifting so she was on his lap again, able to press against him. He broke them apart, catching his breath and holding her face in both hands, looking at her.

"What?" She asked, uncertain.

He shook his head to dismiss her worries. "You're beautiful."

And her stomach flipped backwards. Thankfully, his arms held her in place, his hands slipping to her bottom as his tongue pushed inside again, hot and wet their feverish kissing, desperate movements continued. They breathed deeply each other's scent, little noises of desire escaping them feeding one another's lust. They both felt so warm to her.

Again, he broke them apart, his eyes closed. His face was cold once more. Steel. Slowly, he removed her hands. She felt her heart crash from her throat to her knees, tumbling on the way down. It was happening again. She must have done something wrong, or perhaps he was trying and she just wasn't…

"If—If you don't want me…"

"What?" His eyes snapped open.

"I mean, I know I'm not…"

"You're not what?" He demanded, his voice even deeper.

"You know." She told him. "Much." She looked away. "I want you, but if you can't bring yourself to—"

"Give me your hand." She blinked at him in confusion. "Give me your hand." She did so, he cradled hers carefully in his bringing it closer to him. When it was nearly to his lower stomach, his moved down and wrapped her fingers around him through his pants.

Her breath hitched. He was thick. And so hard. She had her hand on him, around him. The warmth reached through the stiff fabric.

"Now can you deny I want you?" She shook her head glancing into his eyes. They were dark, almost overcome with lust. "I very much want you. But I need something else first."

"What?" She moved her hands slowly up and down his shaft, squeezing slightly.

"That date."

"I want to kiss you more." She murmured.

"As you wish." He closed the distance, hungrily taking her mouth with his. They moved against each other trying to be closer, his hands holding her to him, traveling along her back and arms and hair, exploring.

And then there was a rush of flames and fabric behind her, making her nearly squeal and him clutch her protectively.

"Whoa." Harry remarked candidly.

"Harry!" She hid against Severus. "Don't you knock?"

"I actually thought about sending a message first in case I disturbed Severus, but then I remembered you were here and how could I possibly disturb..." He trailed off, his own voice mocking himself. "Guess you worked it out." He offered awkwardly.

"Turn around, Mr. Potter."

"What?"

"Turn around."

He kissed her lightly and lifted her, turning so to place her at his side on the couch. Running a hand through his hair, he exhaled and was quite himself again, making Hermione smirk down at her foot dangling above the worn, red carpet.

"You may turn around now, Potter." Harry did so looking at them sheepishly and blinking more than was necessary. "I take it you have something to tell me."

"Oh, er, yeah, I was just…"

"Spit it out."

"I think I've found something. In what Hermione found in the wall in Grimmauld Place, there were two rings in some jewelry. One was sapphire in a bronze setting, engraved like wings and the other was a black band, like two claws holding a yellow diamond. Now they also had curses on them. Hermione pointed out the Gryffindor ring had a drowning spell while the Slytherin one had a fire spell, while it seems like it would be the other way around. Well, the raven is a bird, right? So you'd think it would be wind and a badger burrows so you'd think earth, but they were reversed as well."

"Wait, how did you determine what the curses were?" She asked him.

"We tried a few things, but the only way to get rid of them wouldn't let us see the full effects…so we tried them."

"What do you mean you tried them?" Severus asked.

"Some people volunteered."

"You mean you." Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"No, actually. I volunteered but May insisted and Neville."

"Not one of the older, more experienced aurors?" Severus asked.

"We were working on this on our own time…anyway, it was fine. So I talked to Malfoy about the rings. He's heard of them. At one time, the Malfoys owned one. Last he heard, they still did, so while he had never seen it, he doesn't know how Carrow would have gotten it, or Rex. Or where the other one came from…"

"So what do you have?" Severus asked impatiently.

"The box." He raised his eyebrows.

"The box?" Hermione asked.

"You remember how we kept staring at it?" She nodded. "The box has this spell on it that does that to whatever is inside. The curse puts people off so the box disguises it. So if we couldn't find where they got the rings, we could find where they got the boxes."

Hermione felt the dawn of the realization. It was in the box in Severus's room and in hers; the longer they looked, the harder it was to look away, to fight the urge to touch it.

"And?" Hermione leaned forward anxious.

"The boxes were purchased by mail from a shop in Romania. They sell more than four. But they sold four at once in December. To an Englishman."

"But why four? If they only had two?"

"No idea." He admitted. "We're looking for the identity of that person now. At the same time, we've been tracing the last time the Black's rings were in circulation and the earliest mention, trying to connect the dots, but again, on our own time."

"Harry, I thought you were going to step down from the auror department, talk to McGonagall."

"I talked to her, but I can't leave yet. Not until this is settled."

"Have you told Ron?"

He shook his head. She gave him a disapproving look that earned her a snap. "Oh, come off it. You just now told him about the two of you." Hermione shrunk back. It was true.

"We shouldn't be keeping him out of the loop." She crossed her arms, berating herself.

"He's in the loop on this, had a lot of ideas actually. He thinks Malfoy knows more than he's telling…and there's only one reason he'd do that."

"To protect his father." Severus said, tilting his head back in realization.

Harry nodded. "All we can do is dig for more information."

"Find out anything about Rex?" Hermione asked.

"Yes. His father lived in here England but his mother was not English an witch; there's no record, no mention of her at Hogwarts. Checking foreign schools now. And I'm trying to get my hands on the file about the incident where she died."

"Thanks, Harry." Hermione smiled weakly.

"Hey, that's what friends are for, uncovering murder plots against friends."

"So boxes?" Severus asked. "You came here to tell us about boxes?"

"One more thing." He sighed. "I found out who this 'attorney for Rex Forthright' is..."

"Who?" She seemed surprised it mattered. It wouldn't be anyone she knew.

"Umbridge."

* * *

A/N: More of the plot to be uncovered and how is Snape going to make it all up to Hermione... that's next. In the meantime, let me know what you thought of the couch scene part two- a tad scandalous! Ten points to one who best describes their hate of Umbridge who, yes, has a different fate here than in canon.

Yours,

Elsie


	34. Winchester

Disclaimer: HP belongs to the wonderful JK. Buy her books. Buy them all. Also, other stuff belongs to Shakespeare.

* * *

A/N: There were some great Umbridge rants the "self-loathing psychopath" including several suggestions of turning her over to centaurs for various atrocities. Someone would rather have a bucket of spiders on their head than look at the toad and the another brought up the clever analogy of enjoying her company as much as "Severus enjoys being in a room full of toddlers". Brilliant, guys. Ten points to each of you.

So sorry about the missed errors and typos last time. It wasn't the first and won't be the last, but I'm hunting them down like Fenrir.

I have to warn you all, we are very near the end. I'd like to thank you all again. And I'd like to ask you to please, if you enjoyed the style, to check out my original story. I'd love to know what you think! While it's not Harry Potter, I think you might like it if you like books.

Date time.

* * *

Chapter 34: Winchester

* * *

"Hermione, we do have to get going." He told her, his voice annoyed.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are you sure this is alright?" She looked down at her jeans and simple top.

"I'm quite sure. I told you to dress comfortably. We do, however, have to go _now_."

"Alright." She said, taking his extended arm. There was a jerk behind her naval as he apparated them. "I'm nervous." She blurted as they appeared in an alleyway. Muggles nearby heard the pop, and he pushed her against the brick wall and kissed her. Really kissed her. The muggles giggled and moved on, but Hermione was left breathless.

"Couldn't be discovered, could we?" He said smoothly, standing back from her as if he'd just offered her coat or something. She looked up and down the normal looking alley, cobbled stones underfoot and brick buildings on either side. The nearest green door had a bookshelf out front.

"Oh, a bookstore."

"Don't even think about it." He caught hold of her hand, and she found her own clasping onto his. "I just needed an apparition spot."

"Oh." She tried to hide her disappointment.

"Come along." He tugged her towards the open street into the open air. It was a wide and lovely stone street on a hillside, full of walking shoppers. The sky overhead was clear blue. "Where are we headed?" She asked, enjoying the sounds of a young violinist playing The Second Waltz.

"I told you. It's a surprise." He said through his teeth. She grinned, knowing he was not really annoyed with her.

"Glad you're feeling better." She said as they weaved through people, passing muggle store fronts all huddled close together, smelling the open market and the bakery as they headed downhill. He had not let go of her hand, she noted.

"Much better." He answered.

"Mummy!" A small body darted in front of her, then darted away. "Mummy!"

"This way." He slowed his pace as much as he could, headed deliberately down a side street.

"It's nice out here." She observed as the tiny, white blossoms failing from the tress caught in her hair.

The pointed grey tips of several small spires reached towards the sky from the clearing as they entered it, met by a face of darkening grey windows in a massive arch. Every one of the cathedral's lines- straight or curved, parallel and perpendicular- made in its sandy stone face beautiful. She watched its neat corners stretch far back across its peaceful, green lawn. A few tress stood in the yard behind the fence, still, silent, and full with life. As they entered one of the three arched doors, a service had begun, Evensong. They walked in the shadows, watching the light stream through the high windows down onto the people and die on the notes of the organ and the choir.

She followed his lead, leisurely, enjoying the buttresses and the music. He cast a spell as they passed the congregation in the middle to disguise them. She could see the little lights, the organ pipes, the crucifix illuminated somewhat eerily from below. He lit the spot ahead; the taps of his footfalls on the stone stopped.

She smiled. "Jane Austen?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I do read." He sneered.

"Romance?" She asked skeptically.

"Better than those useless fairy tales."

She gave him a knowing look. "Obviously, you have not finished the book."

"I'm sure it's a true loss." His words dripped with sarcasm as he folded his arms. As she took a moment to pay her respects to the grave before her, she could not help but see those muscular forearms with the sleeves of his simple, buttoned shirt rolled up to the elbows.

"We do have to make it to dinner." He led her by the hand again, and she was once more thankful the halls were dark. She was blushing at the prolonged contact even it was likely out of impatience rather than romance.

They walked past the park, the statue, the river, and up the road to a little pub, covered and hung with flowers. Flowers bloomed outside in flowers pots, in wheelbarrows. It seemed the least Snape-like place possible, but it smelled of fresh cut grass and petunias—summer. Shepard's pie was teasing her from inside, along with strawberries and cream. He stood to let her pass first, and they found a spot for themselves, though the place was popular. The enjoyed their meal mostly in silence, neither of them fond of yelling over chatter, but she did shoot him a smile which he returned.

"You're going back over what Potter told us again, aren't you?" He asked.

She smiled apologetically. "You've been wonderful at distracting me."

"There is nothing we can do until Potter gets more information."

"Maybe I could-"

"No, Hermione. You need to stay away from Rex and everything about him. Now get that lip out of your mouth and enjoy your time with your dashing potions master or I'll take you home."

A laugh broke free from her, and for a moment she forgot to worry. Instead, she took a swig of her drink. "Yes, sir." She winked. As they finished their desert, savoring the fresh strawberries, Severus checked his watch again.

"There's more?" She asked. He tilted his head to indicate there were still surprises to come and snapped the watch shut.

She followed him out after he paid the bill, and they walked all the way back up the high street again, her shoes padding the cobblestone, the streets clearing and darkening stores all closing. By the time the pair made it to the top of a formidable hill, he led her to the left, up some stairs, and around a tree in a stone courtyard. She was losing her breath, wondering what was going on as they neared a hall of some kind, an old building. A small crowd had assembled inside, watching.

His hand had hers again and he was silent as he moved forward. She crept inside, noting a round table hanging on one wall. The place looked almost medieval as did the people dressed in the center of the room. They were talking. It took only a few lines for her to realize what it was: "Is all our company here?" Someone asked, looking at the crowd.

"A Midsummer Night's Dream!" She whispered to Severus.

He shushed her playfully. She smiled broadly. She was not sure she had ever mentioned it to him, but her parents had met at the theatre, a Shakespeare...

**"**Answer as I call you. Nick Bottom, the weaver." The actor spoke again.

**"**Ready. Name what part I am for, and proceed." Replied Nick Bottom, the weaver.

"You, Nick Bottom, are set down for Pyramus."

"What is Pyramus? a lover, or a tyrant?" Asked Bottom.

The character Quince answered, "A lover, that kills himself most gallant for love."

She did not like that part, love suicides, but she laughed aloud and felt him chuckle next to her though when Snug asked: "Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study."

"You may do it extempore," Quince told him, "for it is nothing but roaring."

And though it was abridged, it was some time later before they heard the words, "If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream…"

It was followed by applause. To his credit, not once did Severus sigh tiredly or shift impatiently during the performance. If she did not know better, she'd think he was not completely miserable.

It was late when they strolled through the green graveyard, up the hill for the view of the sleeping city and countryside. He had took her hand again to help her up at some point and she had not let go. The air was warm, the sky starry. She felt as if she had been drinking.

"Tonight was just perfect." She told him. He seemed surprised.

"I hope you remember that when I remind you of the disaster of the garden party at Malfoy Manor and the resulting newspaper slosh." He drawled slowly.

"I won't ever forget." She told him sincerely at which she got a small smile. It seemed confused, the smile, like it wanted to be there, but wasn't quite sure it belonged.

Then, up on the hill, the wind blew; thunder rumbled far off. "We should go." He said suddenly. They turned and began to walk very swiftly.

"But we should be safe until Rex and Malfoy are released." She said, trying to keep up and not ready for the night to end. It was a remarkable event, and sure not to be repeated. She half wondered if he had been drugged again.

"Something else…something's not right."

"It's probably just Rita Skeeter." She huffed as he was pulling her across the street.

"There were two of them, Hermione."

"What?"

He turned on her. "Two men attacked that Auror. One of them was Carrow." He emphasized before taking off again among the houses.

Her arm protested. "Severus, I can't keep up."

He did not slow down. "Something's wrong." He repeated, hand itching to grab his wand. "Apparate straight home."

"Wait." She couldn't help that she did not want to go home. She was having a nice time. Clearly, he was expecting a better reason for her objections, so she looked as his chest as she replied. "Don't I get a kiss goodnight?"

"As usual," He pretended to sneer, "You get whatever you want."

* * *

His surprise date had been flawless. She returned safely home, receiving word from him shortly after that he had done the same, and she was exhausted. As soon as she went to bed, she was asleep, dreaming of the halls of the cathedral. Severus held her hand walking faster and faster down the endless nave.

"Wait, Severus." She begged, not wanting to let go.

"I have to hurry. I have to get to the end!" He growled.

"But I can't keep up!" Her legs grew tired. "Don't leave me behind!" Her arm was about to come out of its socket; she just knew it. She was running as hard as she could. He wasn't even breathing harder. "Severus, please? Can't we stop a moment."

She fell, but did not hit the stone floor with her knees. Instead, she fell through the shadows, still clutching his hand. When she opened her eyes, they were sitting outside the pub, surrounded by red and purple blossoms. The pair were seated in the sunlight, nothing around them but a green field, at a small table. He was reading the paper. It said: _"Hermione Granger, War Hero, Dead."_

"Severus, that paper says..."

He glanced at the front page. "You know they never get anything right." He drawled nonchalantly, returning to his reading. She glanced down at her lone teacup, lemon slice swimming in the steaming, amber liquid.

"Alright, Granger?"

She looked up to find Harry and Draco were standing there next to her, the only the people in sight. She glanced at Severus, but he simply turned the page and did not bother to acknowledge the boys.

"Are you ready, Hermione?" Harry asked cheerfully.

"For what?" She blinked.

"For what?" Draco laughed. "Don't play daft. The wedding." he looked across the green field to the cathedral which had appeared.

"Whose wedding?" She asked.

Harry shrugged. "Dunno. We figured you would know."

"Yeah." Ron stuffed a lemon square in his mouth, presumably stolen from Severus' plate. The dark haired man continued to act as if they weren't there. "You know everything."

An actor approached, dressed in antiquated garb. "Are all our company here?" He asked, smiling widely.

At last, Severus put down his paper. "We are still waiting for one more I think."

Her stomach turned. Approaching behind Severus was none other than Rex Forthright.

"Severus, look out!" She fell backwards, her chair tipping. When she landed, she was sitting alone on the dark cathedral floor. "Severus?" She called. "Harry?" It was a bit scary in the dark, all hollow. "Ron?" She tried. "Draco?" She swallowed. "Um, Shakespeare?"

"Well, I'm not the bard, but I think I can help." A plain woman in light colored regency garb, her hair pinned back, stood before Hermione, her hand extended.

"Jane? Jane Austen?"

"We've been introduced?" She balked. "Come on. I'll lead you out of here." Hermione was led by the hand back in the opposite direction, light growing until they were outside.

"Thank you." It felt fantastic in the fresh air and sunlight.

"Take my advice, my friend." Jane Austen said. "Avoid those men, unless you enjoy sitting alone in the dark."

It was a strange dream and rather funny too, but she did not tell anyone about it. Maybe that was because she knew none of her friends were quite ready to hear about it yet. Or maybe Jane Austen's ghost was right, and she never should have gone on that date with Snape. But even if she could know for sure it wasn't a good idea, she'd relive that night again in a heartbeat.

* * *

Hermione was pleased to meet Luna for lunch.

"I'm so glad you're back!" She said, shaking her umbrella as she stepped in the doorway.

"Oh me too!" She announced happily, arranging some strange looking weeds in the vase of the kitchen table. "It was very terrible weather."

Hermione blinked, trying to pry the wet lock of hair stuck to her face as the thunder crashed behind her. "But, Luna, the weather here is awful."

"I know." She answered with a faint smile. "But it's home."

Hermione just took it for what it was, spying the plate of steaming something on the table. "I got this recipe while I was away. Would you try the first batch?"

She trustingly accepted one, drying herself magically. It tasted wonderful, strong with chocolate and something else she could not place. Her lips tingled. "What is that?"

"Chocolate." Luna answered. "And chili pepper…with sea salt."

Hermione blinked several times, taking another bite. It was indeed. She shrugged. Strange or not, they were delicious.

"I was hoping we could couple an article on werewolves and anamorphagi with a spot on Professor Lupin and Tonks. They were very nice. Their child is Harry Potter's godson."

"It would fascinate the readers." Hermione agreed. "Another great spotlight story, but also a chance to change werewolf perception a bit."

"Exactly." Hermione smiled fondly at her new found friend. Strange how the two of them had more in common than she and Ginny, as it turned out.

"The muggleborn thing should be a little column. You know, expelling one myth per week, focusing on an interesting muggle technology."

"Oh! I like that!" Hermione agreed.

"Have you got the front page war story ready? I know you've been busy."

"I have it right here." She pulled it from her messenger bag.

Luna took the paper and read over it.

_This Week's Victory Splash: The Weasleys. _

_William Weasley works for Gringotts bank and is married to beauty and Triwizard Champion, Fleur Delacour Weasley. Charlie Weasley is a dragon handler and specialist. _Percy Weasley in an assistant undersecretary to Minister of Magic._ Twins George and Fred: inventors and business owners of Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Ronald, Auror and Order of Merlin. Ginerva Weasley is a professional quidditch player for the Harpies. What you may not know is that these Weasleys aren't distant cousins; they are all siblings. _

_But how did this happen? Seven out of seven siblings successful. Who is that lucky? Who is that powerful? Who is that good?_

_The answer to that is Molly and Arthur Weasley. _

_Molly Weasley is a mother of seven who cooks and cleans and organizes family occasions. She sews, knits, and shops. She also served in the Order of Phoenix through both wars, and at the final battle, she took down Bellatrix Lestrange._

_Mr. Weasley is recognized by many in passing, probably because he greeted them on his way to work as he supported his family for years from working the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry; his interest in muggles saved his life after he was bitten by Tom Riddle's serpent while standing guard to protect Harry Potter. _

_Six of the Weasleys seven children fought in Battle of the Hogwarts alongside their parents, and the couple lost a son, Fred Weasley, as well as their family home, burned down by Death Eaters. They are true Gryffindors, like all their children. We are grateful to them for their sacrifice, grateful to them for their children, and here at The Quibbler most grateful to call them friends, even family._

"Perfect." Luna smiled widely.

"So," Hermione took her cup of tea. "Tell me about your trip to Greenland."

* * *

After lunch, it was the final day of working with Mr. Welling. Things were empty, repaired as best they could be. Not a single book was left, but the smell lingered. She had to wipe away her tears as Mr. Welling stood in the street in the rain, looking up at his storefront as he hung the "Closed" sign.

She busied herself as he came back inside. "That's that, I suppose." He said with a note of finality. She could not think of anything to say. "You know, this bookstore has been around for nearly a hundred years. It was something else before that, I suppose, and it will be something else soon. So many children came in here every year," He smiled wistfully, "Getting their school books. We always made sure they got them too, even if we had to cut a few deals." He winked. "My father ran it, you know. I thought I was going to do something else, but now," he laughed sadly, touching the till. "I can't even remember what that something else was." He shrugged.

Hermione was standing outside the darkened and empty windows of Flourish and Blotts, thinking about the first time she'd gone in with her parents. Thinking about every time she had gone in for school, for her job. In a few short months, she had learned so much. She knew orders and balancing and shelving and store room organization. She knew the catalog system and the spells he used to prevent theft and book damage.

And looking helplessly up and down the cobblestone street, feeling the water soak through her clothes and chill her on this hot day, she found her eyes resting on Gringotts Bank. And something very strange occurred to her. Something she had never thought of before, though why it had not she could not now guess.

Oh yes, probably because it was mad. Still, it couldn't hurt. She walked into the marble hall, looking at the lines and spotted a familiar face: Griphook.

When she reached the front of his line, he seemed not to notice her. "Name."

"Er, Hermione Granger."

"Miss Granger. You need to visit your vault?"

"No actually, I was curious who I would see about getting a loan?"

"What kind of a loan?"

"A business loan."

He closed his book, evaluating her with his raised eyebrow. "Come with me." He said relecutnantly ,wobbling around the side.

She had never been up in the bank before, but she did now. "Wait here." He commanded outside a pair of black doors. Suddenly, she felt very young, very foolish and very wet.

"Go ahead." He motioned inside.

"Miss Granger." The man greeted from behind a massive oak desk. "Have a seat."

"Thank you." She tried not to look too self conscious or drip too much on his posh furniture.

"What can we do for you today?"

"Well, sir. I was wondering about the possibility of acquiring a loan to buy Flourish and Blotts, plus amounts for repairs, inventory, and hiring initial staff." She struggled to sounds as professional as she could.

"I see."

When he said nothing further, she cleared her throat and explained, "It's been the bookstore of this street for almost all Hogwarts students for nearly a century and has recently gone out of business. I know because I've been working there for months, learning the trade. I also have some publication experience."

"_The Quibbler_?" He interrupted.

"Yes sir."

"Interesting publication."

"It is. And in my last few months there, sales have doubled." As strange as it felt bragging on herself, but it was necessary. He paused, somewhat interested.

"I see."

"I am sure I can do it." She lied. "And I'll have Mr. Welling for help. That store going out of business can't help the business on this street." She said, earning a level look. She knew it was not good for them if business suffered again.

"You don't have very much experience."

"I can give references." She offered.

"I'm concerned, Miss Granger, with making sure the money is paid back."

"It will be sir. I have few living expenses and paying you back will be first priority."

"Could you not pay for this out of pocket?"

"I'm not sure, but I'll also be studying at a muggle university—"

"Studying? Studying what?"

"Well, this in a way…" She confessed. "I know I'm young, sir. But I will pay you back. I can do this. I'm good friends with the Weasleys. Bill works here, he will tell you I can do it. But I can also ask George to by my advisor. He has the most successful business in Diagon Alley. Luna Lovegood is a business owner as well, and…"

"I will ask Bill and Griphook." He told her.

"And Mr. Olivander!" She blurted, hoping the man would give her a good reference.

"In addition to that, I'll need three references by letter." He was adjusting with some papers on his desk.

She mentally noted.

"And George Weasley and Mr. Welling's agreement to help you set it up."

"Absolutely." She had not even breeched the subject with them. Would they agree?

"I'll be honest with you. I'd like to give you the loan."

"Well, maybe you could have my account as security."

"You'd agree to that?"

"I'm serious."

"You are a very confident young woman." It surprised her.

"Thank you."

"Come back here when you are ready to review the paperwork and have your letters."

"I will." She stood, eager to escape. Her face was burning with postponed embarrassment but her heart was hammering away in excitement. What the hell was she thinking: waltzing into a massive bank, not even twenty years old, without even knowing how to get a loan?

If she had thought it through, she would have been too nervous, too intimidated to do it. Thank Merlin she had not thought for once.

Now, she had real work to do. Severus had just returned to Hogwarts, preparing for the beginning of school. Ginny's season was beginning. Her own school started in less than one month. Somehow before that she needed to get pull the loan together. The loan.

Merlin's beard she would owe a monumental amount of money. Staggering, before she'd even made any. Had she just financially ruined herself?

The second she got into Grimmauld Place, she summoned paper and a pencil, scribbling out numbers and figures, trying to calculate what she would need, what was a reasonable amount to pay in interest…

She needed to write to Bill. And George. She penned a quick note to the twin, asking him to drop by to give her a bit of advice. She penned a quick letter to Bill asking about the baby and if he could meet her in Diagon Alley one day that week so she could ask him a bank question. She was just beginning to write a letter to McGonagall asking for a reference to be kept silent when there was an urgent knock at the door.

"Alright! I'm coming!" She shouted as she passed the hole in the wall.

The banging stopped only when she opened the door. An out of breath May dropped her hands onto her knees.

"May?" Hermione was puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"We have to get inside!" She shoved them both in the door, locking it and gasping with her back against it. "W-water." She croaked.

Hermione turned remembering to summon the glass and spell it. "Aguamente. What happened?" She repeated urgently.

"Oh, Hermione. Ron. Ron was attacked. He was hurt really bad. He-he…"

* * *

A/N: So I simply must know what you thought of the date, her big rash decision, and in exchange I'll tell you very soon what's going on with Ron!

Yours,

Elsie


	35. Whilst

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

A/N: On the ups, we hit 700 reviews- big, exciting milestone. On the downs, there were much fewer reviews than normal. Thanks to everyone who shared their thoughts. Great to hear from you all, including some people I'd never heard from before! I know there were a few surprises last time. To clarify, she hasn't gotten a loan yet. Now for what's up with Ron... Hope you like this one better. Let me know. Warning: sadness ahead. sadness.

* * *

Chapter 35: Whilst

* * *

"Ron?" She felt like someone had slapped her. "What happened to Ron?" Images flew through her mind like those little cartoons the boys would draw on the corners of their books, flipping them. Was he gone? Was he bloody, in pain somewhere? "Where's Ron?"

"Come on." May shook her head. "I'll take us to him."

"Is he at St. Mungo's?" She asked.

May did not answer right away. "I'll take us." She repeated. "Take my arm."

Hermione looked at May oddly. Part of her felt that dash of cold water in her gut the same she did that day at Hogwarts when she had followed Ginny's voice through the darkened empty corridors. When she and Rex stepped into the room and found nothing, she felt at once a plummeting inside. Something was wrong.

For a second, she felt a pang of guilt. She'd been mean to May and for no reason really. Hermione and Ron were not together, had actually been broken up for months when May stayed over. She had no right to be mean, let alone get her basically kicked out of her coworkers' home. And she'd been attacked after that. Hermione had not even sent a card, even though they were attacked by a common enemy.

As if a short shock jolted through her, she thought of what Severus would say. She could nearly see his angry visage before her in the hall, his voice snapping at her to forget her guilt and her manners and focus on her safety.

If she had not been so concerned with getting through to Rex, she might have noticed he was calm, almost smiling. He was about to attack.

But May was not going to attack her. May was an auror.

Why wasn't she answering? Why was she insisting on apparating them herself? Though she had come in breathless, May was suddenly calmly repeating herself.

Hermione took one moment to think through this and must have furrowed her brow, for the moment she reached for her wand, preparing some pretext like 'let me just get a couple things', May had already sent a curse flying her way. It did not make a sound and it moved almost too quickly to see, much too quickly to dodge, but Hermione could feel it on the air like an electric current. She put up a shield charm at once.

She blinked, thinking through the spells she knew, which one could be used without killing May. Something was not right. She did not have time to think what that might be.

Hermione had only a half second to determine if she would dart for the stairs or the kitchen. Thankfully, she chose the stairwell, hearing the breaking of the bottom stair as she sped up them, smelling the ends of her hair sizzling. The kitchen would have trapped her in a narrow room with one exit. The stairs at least led to many rooms, objects, shields, and potential hiding places.

She extinguished her hair, yelping at the burn on the back of her neck. The pain stopped but the air felt cooler on that spot while the rest of her body burned. She was out of breath as she reached the landing, spinning into the open den for cover. Spells hit the other side of the door where she was crouched, knocking her backwards. A sound escaped her as she tumbled, banging her knees, and scrambled up, forcing the door shut and casting as many spells against it as she might to hold it closed. She also had to secure the other door to the room that was to her left against the same wall.

On the other side, May was there, silently working hard to undo every spell Hermione might have placed on it. Using a spell to slice her hand and spill a little blood, she fastened a strong ward. But it would only buy her time given the rate at which spells were firing into the wooden door behind her.

She looked around the room, suddenly regretting cleaning out of the dark magical objects of the Blacks. She wished she had more time to think. Behind the wall of the Black's immovable family painting was concealed a number of dark objects. Two of those matched the rings that were sent to Hermione and Snape. Carrow was taking credit, but Rex seemed to know what was happening. Malfoy was helping the Aurors, supposedly. Carrow had attacked her and Luna. Carrow and someone else had attacked May… but May was attacking her.

The door shook against her. There were two windows, she could try to climb out of if she dare leave the door, but she would be risking being seen by muggles or getting them killed. There was a fireplace in the room, but no floo network connected to it, so it was no help. She could send a patronus to Harry or Ron; it was possible May's whole 'there was an attack' explanation was a rouse. She decided to send one to Harry.

"Harry!" She heard herself more out of breath than she expected from running up the stairs and letting out a near constant stream of spells. "Come home, quick! I'm being attacked." She wondered if she should say who it was…in case she never got the chance. The thought startled her, but it was legitimate. "It's May. She said Ron was hurt, but she might be under a spell. Please hurry!"

The door was struggling, about to burst off its hinges.

"Severus!" She shouted in realization. She conjured another patronus to send to him, but hesitated when she actually saw it. The last time, her eyes had been fixed on the door as her silvery figure had escaped her wand. What was once an otter swimming before her was now an angry stallion, shaking its mane and snorting as it paced the air of the room with its long head down. And though it was figment of light mostly, she knew if it had a color, it would be solid black.

"Help!" She managed before the door was blasted off the hinges and shot her across the room. There was an earsplitting noise as furniture snapped and drug across the floor, items flew off shelves, and something somewhere shattered.

Hermione felt the back of her head knock against something, a couch or the wall—she could not be sure. She scrambled up, coughing the dust from her lungs and brandishing her wand. She sent every incapacitating spell she knew towards May, inching towards the other door behind her spot in the debris. "Stupefy!" "Expeliarmus!" "Petrificous totalus!"

She nearly tripped climbing backwards over it all, feeling the wind from the spells she barely deflected. "Crucio!" "Impendementa!" "Sectumsepmra!"

This girl was not playing. But she wasn't angry either. Through the dust of exploding wood and cushions, Hermione could see a stoic face and hear a calm, steady voice. May was determined and emotionless. Was this the real her?

Harry should have been there by then, she thought as she made it through the second door, pulling it closed. There was a rushing sound and then she found herself holding on to the doorknob looking through a gaping hole burned through the door, the heat of it inches from her face.

The downstairs was clearly cut off by magic, so she had to wheel around and sprint upstairs again, taking refuge in Sirius' room. Warding the door again, she magically moved a massive wardrobe in front of the door. If she could continue to maintain the door until Harry arrived, or Severus, she would be fine. She panted, straining her magic to keep up with May's quick work on the other side. She wanted to catch her breath, lower her arm, but could not.

Suddenly, the room was swirling with a powerful breeze. It was strong and emanating from the crack below the door with such force she couldn't get near it. It blew everything loose about the room, tugged and ripped the bed drapes like a hurricane. She had to squeeze her wand painfully tight in her fingers. Its strength increased, swirling in front of her, pulling her hair into her eyes. She couldn't see properly.

It was hard to breathe; the whirlwind seemed to be pulling the oxygen into the center of the room along with everything else. The dresser even moaned, wanting to move forward under its control. Hermione felt her own body being pulled towards it, blinking and pulling hair out of her dry eyes. She tried to gasp out as he body bent towards it, her feet stumbled under the uneven weight. On her tip toes and heaving in the thin air, she tried any spell she could think of, but nothing abated the wind and it's truly horrific noise. A howling inhumane and yet…

May broke through her defenses, sending Hermione and everything else to the floor with a clatter. May stood over her, her affect and voice flat as she pointed her wand at Hermione face. The girl was blocking the only exit. Hermione scrambled to hide under the bed, grab a piece of something nearby for protection, but May flung it away with ease.

"May stop!" Hermione pleaded. May was unbothered, continuing her work.

"May, please!" She tried again, aiming to disarm or clear the doorway. May's spells were dark, Hermione noted, mostly for maiming or capturing rather than stunning or killing and many of them ones Hermione did not recognize at all.

She was cornered, on the floor where Sirius's headboard once rested. The blonde auror was blocking the only exit. She had run into a trap. She prayed Harry and Severus to come quickly, wishing the seconds away as she struggled to keep up, her strength failing. She was out of practice and had run quite a bit, been thrown around. This was draining her, and May was good. Eventually, one of them would fail to block or its spell would hit its mark. The more time went by and the more spells that were casts, the greater the odds increased this duel would end, Hermione knew.

She thought of Sirius, hurrying up the stairs and sticking his head, black hair shook like a dog as he quickly came to her aide. 'Not our Hermione.' He'd say. 'Only we can pick on our Hermione!' Or maybe, 'This is my house, bitch!'

Or if Remus and Tonks, an auror herself would appear and disarm her, the unusual frowns on their friendly faces for only a moment before the pocketed their wands and helped her up into their warm arms. 'Alright there, Hermione? Held her well, didn't you?'

She imagined Harry, blowing her away it a blast of green. Ron's red hair and short yells storming into the room. Severus standing darkly in the doorway, towering and putting her down in one swift motion like a hunter and asking at once, 'Are you alright, Hermione?'

But why was she thinking of them? They weren't here. Some of them would never be there again. Hell, she might never be there again. She tried to think of another approach, something unexpected. But there was no room in her brain—she was just trying to fend her off. The other girl was barely drawing breath.

Hermione felt a jolt of pain course through her. She was hit. Mentally, she had prepared herself. 'Think through the pain, Hermione,' she had told herself. 'Hold on to your wand, whatever happens, hold onto it.' But she couldn't think then, not of anything but the pain. Pain all over. It blinded her, but it only lasted a second. May removed the spell the second she had what she wanted: Hermione's wand.

She blinked through her tears in confusion and watched the most important second of her life. In that second, May held her wand loosely—so loosely—at her side. She lifted her own slowly, her eyes blank as a shark. And Hermione had a feeling, or a thought or an inclination or whatever it was that she was either about to be killed or tied up and then, either way, it was over.

She thought her parents, if they could remember her how afraid they would be for her, how they would tell her to do something. And filled with that knowledge, past the realization that for some reason no one was coming—May must have cast charms outside before she knocked to keep messages from getting out. She might even have done something to keep them out, or distract them first.

If she was going to live, she needed that wand. Eyes on it, she felt that need with every fiber of her being and reached for it. "Accio!"

It was in her hands and she was on her feet, throwing May off her feet, confounding her. She looked down on the girl, failing to disarm her. May was not afraid. She was not anything. She was not there.

"May, if you can hear me, fight it." Hermione felt her cheek dripping blood. She waited still.

But May's spells changed. The light fixture fell, missing Hermione by an inch. The floorboards cracked as if something underneath were breaking its way through. She leapt back, her spell holding May mostly in place. She tried to break a connection between May and whoever might be controlling her. Nothing. A nail, presumably loosened from the furniture, sprang from the floor into Hermione ankle, making her scream out. She had to lift it, her footing less secure.

"Harry help!" She tried in vain, unable to conjure a patronus and keep May down at the same time.

May was fighting the weak imperious, trying to get up.

"No, stay down!" Hermione hissed, eyeing the doorway. "Please stay down." May's shoulders began to lift from the floor with great effort. Hermione jumped over her, her ankle leaving a trail of blood and protesting loudly. She was on the other side of the door, standing in the third floor landing in front of the bathroom knowing there was no running or barricading.

The only hope was the front door, and she would never make it was rusty nail in her foot, not with her back to a freed May. She tried anyway, finding her legs more and more disobedient as she leaned her back against the wall and headed down. Whilst Hermione struggled, May fought her way up, one footstep at a time, holding herself like a fallen marionette in the doorway, one hand on each side of the doorframe. Her knuckles were bleeding.

Hermione knew she was in trouble. She knew you had to mean an unforgivable to cast it. And she never could stand seeing someone in pain, injured. May could be innocent. She could not mean it, not really. Not like this.

Her voice was strangled with a sob as she pleaded, "Please, May." May stumbled towards her, Hermione still trying to keep her down with the fading spell. She poured her strength into it, but May was winning.

And Hermione tripped a bit, meeting the part of the stairs that were vanished. It was quite a fall and she had no way to catch herself and hold onto her wand. She was caught, the auror peaking out from her short frame of hair.

"May! Listen to me!" Hermione choked out, her body tiring with her magic, blood pooling on the floor.

Slowly, May neared.

"May, please. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill you." She all but whispered. And just as May raised her wand, Hermione did too. Both shouted, and the staircase exploded. Hermione flew backwards into the air, felt the pangs and sharp pains, felt confused, struggled to draw breath. Why wouldn't the air go in? Why couldn't she breathe?

Her head was muddy and her body hurt.

Was May still coming after her? She couldn't see. Were her eyes closed? She did not hear anything either. There was nothing, nothing at all.

That must be the end then. It wasn't so bad save the pain, and she wished she could get some air in her lungs but then again—she almost laughed—if she could breathe, she wouldn't be dying. It was not how she wanted to go. There was lot she had wanted to do. Maybe someone else would do it, she hoped…

She'd see some people soon…and her parents wouldn't have to miss her. She'd don't that for them, if nothing else. And Severus would get over it. He probably wouldn't even talk about her much after a while. That student he used to have, the one he'd worked with, the know-it-all. It wasn't as if she was special. It wasn't as if she was Lily.

At least she had fought hard; at least she had finished school. She'd done the right things. Died a virgin for her troubles, though didn't she? She vaguely hoped that wouldn't be in the paper. And she had not killed anyone. There was that, she thought.

And then she did not think anything more at all.

* * *

Severus Snape was bored. Teaching potions for what felt like the hundredth time, especially with no reprieve from the texts over the summer, was straining his nerves. Even McGonagall had noticed.

"Are you alright, Severus?"

"I swear, they get dumber and smaller each year." He sighed.

"Perhaps Defense Against the Dark Arts would be a nice reprieve." She suggested not for the first time.

"No." He answered.

The new defense against the dark arts teacher was barely more qualified than Gilderoy Lockhart in his opinion, a fat and lazy ex-auror. Still, they need not change everyone in staff in a single year, he had thought. Besides, he would not allow himself that, not to answer questions about spying, about Dumbeldore, not after he'd seen Carrow prod his students unwillingly into darkness, frighten them, hurt them with magic they did not understand. "Has Potter spoken with you yet?" He asked instead, though he did not listen to the answer.

On top of that ailing his mood, he was accustomed to seeing his newest most unlikely friend on a daily basis. But if he were honest, she was not just an unlikely friend. She was more than that.

He felt badly- as he walked the tired corridors- recalling his cruelty to her when she was only a young girl. When her teeth had grown out under Malfoy's stupid spell, he had said, mostly for his benefit but not entirely without amusement, 'I see no difference.' He knew, once a bullied youth himself, what a blow that could have been to her self-esteem, if she had not wowed them all at the ball.

Another wave of guilt washed over him as he entered his dungeon. She had been fourteen that night, and lovely. He had had sat not two months ago with this young lady on his lap, kissed her passionately. Every time he told himself he would rebuff her advances, her curiosity, he failed. It was only so long before he could admit he enjoyed her. And who would not? She had grown beautiful.

As he finally made it to sit in his chair, recalling her nearly naked body once sat on the settee across from him and then her outrage that he had sent her home from their date, he struggled with the idea of what he must do. Of course, it was normal that their relationship should progress, friendship and mutual attraction—well, no it was not just that. They had also shared much, could understand certain things…

But it had to end, didn't it? If they continued, it would progress to intimacy and then she would grow more attached to him, more infatuated. His own wants were irrelevant. She needed something he would never be able to give. He could never be hers, not really. He belonged to Lily, his heart and all, always.

And it would crush her, eventually. He did not want that, though he did want her. He was putting it off, debating with himself, but it must be done. McGonagall was pressing like Narcissa in finding him an eligible bride, quick to laugh at the ridiculousness of rumors that he and Hermione were more than friends. He ignored Aurelia's letters and refused McGonagall's invitations to dinners, but could only maintain privacy for so long.

It was time to free Hermione. Free her to find someone worthy of her, who could return her open heart's affection in every way. He could not.

Annoyed by its presence, he vanished the sofa she had frequented. He eyed the rose suspended under its glass, unchanged, and summoned the fairy tale book smoothly from the bookshelf. He was knee deep in happily-ever-afters, rubbing his twinging head. That's not love at all. Love ended sadly. His, Lily's and James, Remus and Tonks…

He threw the book aside.

* * *

It was the next day in his afternoon double potions session that he was disturbed by a patronus, vivid light filling the classroom. Hermione's voice called out to him from the mouth of a neighing stallion, standing on its hind legs and kicking out its front hooves. "Severus. Help!" And it galloped away, disappearing in a bluish wisp.

The students' eyes were on his shocked face, barely daring to whisper about the magnificent thing they had just witnessed, only third years that they were.

"Please continue." He said slowly, his mind racing with his heart as he willed himself to stay calm. "Mr. Davies, please send word to the Headmistress I've been called away…for an emergency."

With a single swish or robes, he had torn from the room. He strode purposefully towards the exit and nearly knocked over McGonagall.

"Oh! Severus, where on earth are you going?" He did not know. Hermione had not explained where she was, which seemed more than a little out of character. She should have known better, so she must have been cut off short. He may already be too late!

He did not bother to hide his intentions and emotions anymore; he was not a spy. He raced up the stairs to the main entrance calling behind him, "Hermione is in trouble!"

"Hermione?" Minerva's accent followed him up, but he did not wait, walking right through a ghost and ignoring the chill.

"I say!" The specter protested, but Snape was nearly out to the door.

He all but ran across the grounds, past the unicorn pen, startling the beast. "Everything alright, professor?" Hagrid called.

"Hermione!" He managed, trekking on without pause to the borders.

"Hermione?" The unicorn bucked at her keeper's startled declaration.

Severus had not time to explain, though he heard the crashing of someone following him. He thought of notifying Potter, but someone likely already had. Where to apparate first?

He tried Diagon Alley, but saw nothing amiss, not even spying down Knockturn. Still unsure, he pushed past a number of people and tried again. 12 Grimmauld Place. The street was littered with glass.

The door was slightly ajar, he noted as he stepped forward prepared to blast it away completely. An eerie sense overcame him. He'd seen the damages house before, entered its tomb-like quiet. He felt the tearing inside, the organs literally heaving themselves in two as he spied the lifeless lump in the debris, the blood smeared about the place. Under a heavy wood beam, a body was trapped, a body with frazzled hair.

There was no mistaking that hair.

He did not bother to check the premises for threats. He simply removed the beam and lifted her. It was strange, he thought he was done weeping, didn't think he had sobs like that left inside him.

"NO!" He heard his own howling. The poor girl in his arms, the same age of his best friend when she had been murdered. "Nooooo!"

And it was all over. The same way it always ended. _Always_.

* * *

A/N: Yeah... I did that. So sorry :( That was a lot more action than I usually write. Love to hear your thoughts.

Yours,

Elsie


	36. Wand

Disclaimer: Still don't own. Lots of tears. Please see previous.

* * *

A/N: Now you lovely people know I would not leave you like that as an ending without a word of goodbye. And you know I'd not make you wait a week to see the next bit. Again, I will say we are nearing the end, and all I can think is: "I don't want to go." Ten points if you know that reference.

Going to warn you this is entirely flashback. Much love to you all!

* * *

Chapter 36: Wand

* * *

_A wand. Killed for a wand. He had quite different sentiments on magic now, all things considered. _

_And, devious to the end, the Dark Lord had apparently no idea that Severus had been unfaithful, but he had easily killed him anyway for the wand. The man was so cold he did not even stick around to see Severus had died. Maybe the bastard half-hoped he might survive somehow._

_For his own part, Severus did not hope that. He had prepared for this moment, his death—the moment when he finally paid his debt, redeemed himself. The moment his pain finally ended. On the one hand, he'd taken anti-venom for months in case Nagini should be set upon him before his mission was complete, Potter aware of what he needed to know, his best chance in hand. But on the other hand, the wound was to his neck. The poison would be expelled but so would a lot of blood, and even with the antidote, the damage to his internal organs would kill him if someone did not find him within hours._

_And who would find him? The only people who knew he was there was Potter and Riddle—Yes, Riddle, he decided to call him. Soon, one of them would be dead, perhaps both. He would be dead before that._

_He felt the wet lips of the snake on his neck and, not wanting his body to be devoured, reached to smack it away with more strength than he expected to have. _

_A small gasp surprised him, and his eyes flew open. He was clutching her small wrist in his hand. Her brown eyes were wide, warm, and bright. He looked directly up into them, and it was like crawling through darkness into a welcoming, open door. He knew those eyes, he vaguely recognized. They were no threat._

_"__Welcome back." Her hand slid gently down his cheek from the spot she tended as she smiled. "You're alright." Her voice said softly, washing a stinging wound on his neck. _

_'__How?' He wanted to ask, but his voice was too dry. He had his answer anyway. It was Granger. Granger of all people. _

_That meant she and presumably Potter had survived and she, he further assumed, had been clever enough to find his cure in his private stores; that and talking to Arthur Weasley about his past treatment, her own muggle knowledge with Poppy's able hands… she had help, naturally, but Granger had saved him. He had no doubt._

_He wanted to laugh at it. _

_It was obvious. She was the brightest of her age, but he had never even been nice to her. How useless Potter and Draco were after all… _

_He choked a bit on his laughter, and she stopped her careful ministrations on his neck to gently raise his pillow, her arms scooping behind his head. It put him the awkward position of having to face her breasts. She moved in a moment, realizing he was conscious. This was apparently unusual. _

_A cup of water was pressed to his lips, lightly. He shook his head stubbornly. His throat was raw. _

_Granger, it seemed, knew better than to argue. She returned to her work. He noticed the rag pulling away with blood and some nasty colored pus type liquid from his jugular. She did not flinch, nor give him a bit of her attention. She chewed on her red lower lip in concentration. _

_"__You are going to make it bleed." He said at last, startling her again. She sat back and stared at him, batting her eyelashes. He tried to move himself up in bed. _

_"__Don't." She stopped him, her small hand on his shoulder. "The wound is only just sutchered and if you move, it will split open, and you'll bleed out again."_

_"__Again?" _

_She paled, looking down. "You had lost a lot of blood when I found you. I tried stopping it the muggle way, figuring magic wouldn't work." She continued to nurse the wound. "I apparated you to hospital."_

_"__A muggle hospital?"_

_She nodded, continuing. He watched her, mesmerized by her manner, as if she had done this for weeks, as if she were some impressive grown witch and not an overachieving student, as if he had survived the impossible and was sitting in Hogwarts. It was all true, though. Equally impossible and true. _

_"__They restarted your heart with electricity, stopped the bleeding, stitched you up and gave you a transfusion. Naturally, though, they were a bit confused about your test results...your blood and the venom. The second your blood pressure and heart rate were stable, I snuck you out and back to Hogwarts. Didn't think you'd want to be at St. Mungos, especially until everyone's heard..." She continued her work. _

_"__Arthur and Poppy showed me how to care for you, and I went straight to raid your labs for something to repair the internal damage. I was not sure it would work." She admitted. _

_"__Stop." He insisted, pain swelling in his chest. It was dawning on him._

_"__I'm nearly done." She said absentmindedly, re-stitching his flesh with a spell. _

_"__Go." He commanded, barely keeping his voice steady. _

_She watched him carefully. "Get. Out." He struggled. _

_Granger had the nerve to look hurt. He did not care. She had ruined everything, ruined his redemption, his reunion with his dear Lily at last. He just wanted to see her face, to tell her he was sorry and see her hear it, read his fate on her features._

_She stood, tossing the rag down. "You're welcome." She spat before leaving. What did she want from him anyway? What did she expect?_

_"__Thank you for what?"_

_"__For saving you." She said, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes welled. He did not care. Silly child could go have her selfish cry and leave him alone as he wished. _

_"__I didn't ask to be saved. I wasn't supposed to be." He told her, closing his eyes as he rested back on his pillow. "I wasn't supposed to be."_

_"__That's not really for you to decide." She shot at him. He only glowered in response, thinking it very much was up to him, and she had taken his death—the one had had chosen with honor and meaning—away from him. She spun on her heel, unbothered by the daggers he glared, and tip tapped her way out of the deserted hospital wing. _

* * *

_He was at her mercy when she returned hours later as the room darkened. She brought supper and lifted the cup of water again to his lips. She said nothing. This time, he drained it. It was cool and tasted sweet. _

_To his horror, she proceeded to feed him. He wanted to protest, his face clearly said he did, but it was the only way; if he moved, he would bleed out, and though he had wept for hours that he was not dead, he could not explain why he had not moved his neck and ended it all. _

_"__I'm not going to apologize." She said thoughtfully a few moment later. She did not look at him as she spoke, but continued to stare into his soup. "But I do wish you would forgive me." _

_He had not known it would matter to her, his opinion. He finished eating, swallowing without protest the bottle of nourishing potion. She wiped his face, making him grimace. "I know you don't like it, but I have to. I won't tell anyone."_

_"__You're enjoying this." He spat._

_She laughed coldly. "I assure you, I'm not. I do have to thank you, though." She checked and cleaned the wound. "For saving Harry. For saving all of us."_

_He raised an eyebrow in response. "Indeed. I see then he survived."_

_She nodded once in the affirmative, her lips pressed tightly together like her mentor Minerva. "__Riddle is dead. For sure this time. All the horcruxes are destroyed." _

_"__Well done."_

_"__What do you care?" She asked with surprising coldness. "You don't care to see the world after Riddle, who lived and who died. You had better things to do."_

_"__Many died." He presumed._

_"__Yes, but it's not the quantity." Her voice was heavy with grief. "It's the quality."_

_And he knew exactly how that felt. He held back his words, knowing he couldn't express them and a wave hit him. He could express them. He did not have to pretend or hold back. No longer was he a slave to the role he must play, hiding his grief over the only father he had ever known, his disgust with the madman he had trusted as a boy. "Who?" He asked. _

_"__You really don't want to know."_

_"__Who?" He repeated._

_She sighed, giving up. "Lupin. Not that you care."_

_"__He was decent." Severus admitted, one of the few to stick up for him, monster though he was. Lily was always fond of him._

_"__And Tonks." Even he felt sorry for that child, their poor child. _

_"__Fred Weasley." He looked up in surprise. Odds were not in their favor, that family, but still…one twin. They were clever too, fast. "Collin Creevey." Such a small boy… "Lavender Brown." He knew the awkward feeling of the name of the dead on your lips when you never liked them. "Professor Morgana Strait." He frowned. _

_"__Vincent Crabbe died. Malfoy defected. Draco is safe, Lucius in prison awaiting trial. Nagini is gone thanks to Neville and Bellatrix at the hand of Mrs. Weasley. Greyback escaped."_

_"__Is that all?" He asked when she said nothing further for a moment. _

_"__About fifty died here. I don't know all the Death Eaters."_

_"__Consider yourself lucky." He said darkly. _

_"__I was." She finished with him as she replied. "Pain relief?" She offered. He declined. Though he would never admit it, he enjoyed the throbbing. Perhaps it felt like he was getting what he deserved. Living for nothing while another little boy lost two loving parents weighed heavily on his chest, like a stone he could not remove. Perhaps it was because the pain made him feel alive; it was his pulse after all that ached with every beat, as if it thumped away reluctantly, resentfully. 'Don't make me.' it seemed to be repeating. 'Don't make me.' _

_"__If you're still here in the morning, I'll see you then." She stood, calling him from his thoughts. Her demeanor was unusual; she was still bothered. And he had no idea why. He did not care, but he supposed he had little less to think about in the empty room. He almost asked. _

_"__Want to be by the fire or the window?" She offered, wand out. He was surprised. Granger was clever, but he did not know she was that empathic. Even annoyed, she thought he might want to be situated somewhere else, somewhere warmer or with a view, and could not move himself._

_"__Fire." He admitted. The grounds at night were spectacular, something he never thought he'd see again. But he was cold._

_She sensed this too, conjuring another blanket without a word as she magically moved his bed next to a hearth. It was the castle all around him that made him feel safe, he told himself, the fire close by warming him. He slept well._

* * *

_It was only when he woke to her cleaning him up and changing his sheets that he moved at last. He leapt from the bed. "What are you doing?" He demanded, hot blood spurting wildly out from his neck, spraying the table and the bed, his bear chest damp from her sponge._

_"__Lie down. Lie down. Lie down!" She had to press her weight onto his throat as he laid down on the frigid floor. It was suddenly hard to breathe and harder to swallow. She was stained with his blood, his filthy pure blood being held in by this desperate muggle born, this little genius. Those warm brown eyes were wide in the struggle, but the still so placid..._

_She managed to stop the bleeding, he surmised, for he woke again sometime later clean and on clean sheets._

_Granger was reading aloud from a book she had taken from his office, one of his favorites. He knew this at once because it was worn on the spine and he recognized the words, but he supposed that was precisely how she guessed it was one of his favorites. She snapped the book shut, giving him a look from her seat, legs curled under her in an arm chair. _

_"__I told you not to move. You made quite a mess." She said simply, standing and getting the glass of water and blood replenishing potion before he could say anything. _

_"__Have you considered being a healer?" He asked in a very teacher-like manner once he had swallowed it all._

_She snorted. "I haven't even graduated Hogwarts, professor." She shook her head. _

_"__What are you doing?" He asked as she summoned a warm plate of food. He waved the plate away. Clearly, this was not pleasing to Miss Granger. 'Well that's just too bad,' he thought. _

_"__Trying to get some food in you."_

_"__No I mean, you and your friends should be celebrating. You're a war hero. I'm just your former teacher. I wasn't even nice to you, and you're—you're here. What are you doing?"_

_"__You're not really going to make me say it, are you?" He was puzzled._

_She shook her head. "It's—it's an hon—Look, everyone knows now, the truth. Some of us suspected it before. We've lost so many, and given all you've done… we wanted you to live." She shrugged at the admission. He had nothing to say. So everyone knew. Those little brat who showed him so little respect might cower and gape like they did at the great Harry Potter. He was sad for the first time Black had not lived to see this. _

_"__Sorry to disappoint." She added, looking at him pointedly before going to the window. "Given your…history, we thought you'd want to be here, and we did not want visitors. The rest of the school is being repaired." _

_"__You volunteered for this, didn't you?"_

_"__Yes."_

_"__But why?"_

_"__Think of it this way: you're sparing me from the funeral processions and preparations."_

_It was not an answer._

* * *

_He could feel time had passed before he next woke. It was then he realized he had been sleeping long periods and waking periodically. Once again, the only person in the room to keep him company was Granger, and once again she was being ridiculously attentive. His body ached, and he felt irritable from being bedridden. And constipated. _

_"__You missed Harry." Hermione told him. "I know you're terribly disappointed." She quipped. _

_"__I almost am." He shot at her. He almost wished her voice were high and annoying so he would have a reason to cringe and complain._

_She looked disappointed again and was silent in caring for him. He cursed her sensitivity as it caused him losing the little conversation available. _

_"I've never understood it, you know?" She said at last._

_"__Never understood what?" He reluctantly asked as she re-bandaged his wound. "Why you hate me so much."_

_"__I've never hated you."_

_"__You're as mean to me as you have been to Harry."_

_"__I hated Riddle." He clarified. _

_"__You should see outside. It's all different without him, you know." _

_"__And when will I go outside, Madam Granger?" He asked snidely. _

_"__Soon." She said, patient with a note of optimism. "Sooner if you had not had your fit earlier."_

_"__Is that what this is? Are out trying to win my approval?" Carefully, he tried to raise his upper body into a sitting position._

_"__No."_

_"__Then why? Why are you doing this?" He hissed, impatient. _

_She sighed, giving him a frown that was nowhere near intimidating. In fact, it was very nearly cute, if it had not been Granger. "Because I want to." She answered simply, making him want to growl in frustration. She did not shrink under his glare. _

_"__You don't owe me."_

_"__I thought I did." She commented, not looking up as she straightened the bed sheets. He hated it when she did that. _

_"__No. Why on earth would you?" _

_She moved his bed to the windows. The night was warm. She was correct. The grounds were cluttered with rubble, dotted with a mass of memorial flowers pilled for the fallen. Hagrid was working as usual, his silhouette bending and straightening on a slope. There was no sound of children, but various beasts flew and dipped in the night sky, the stars bright. The lake reflected them, like two skies._

_"__For saving you and all." She answered, looking out on the grounds as well. He looked at her a moment, unsure what he was seeing. It looked vaguely like Hermione Granger. It was taller and sort of glowed in the moonlight. It was strong and unafraid. She looked at him too, and he recalled seeing those warm brown eyes when he woke… no before that, as he'd been dying. It was unclear, unlike her soft touch which remained uncomfortably vivid. 'Welcome back.'_

_"__Goodnight." She said leaving him to the fresh air._

_"__I did not move." He called after her retreating form._

_"__I'm sorry?" Her footsteps died._

_"__When I woke and I was angry I had not died, you said if I moved my neck, I'd bleed out in a matter of minutes. You've left me alone, free to move several times since then and end it all of my original wounds."_

_"__But?"_

_"__But," he stressed. "I did not move." He knew no more why or what it meant than she did, but there it was. She nodded once._

* * *

_"__Don't touch that!" He snapped as Poppy made herself at home, or at work as it was, settling him into his own chambers. _

_"__Oh, for Merlin's sake, Severus." She huffed._

_"__I hardly need help anyway." He could move at least, but found after so long in bed it winded him easily. He huffed as he climbed under his sheets._

_"__You are to stay in bed and take your potions until you recover completely. The castle is secluded enough to protect you from infection. But you can't move enough to maintain your own wounds."_

_"__Oh if only we had magic…" He said sarcastically. _

_"__Lay down!" She pushed him. Rather counterproductive to his healing, he felt._

_"__When is Granger returning?" He angrily pulled on his blankets. _

_Madam Pompfrey laughed. "When is Miss Granger returning indeed." She chuckled. "I'll have to tell her that. She'll be tickled." The woman ignored him and his glares. _

* * *

_"__Missed me I hear." Granger turned on his lights waking him cruelly. Her voice was light with amusement._

_"__Desperately." He joked, taking her by surprise as his eyes had remained closed. She looked at him, then chuckled. Granger did not giggle, he'd grant her that, and she was much more careful with her hands than Poppy. She also chose to ignore his insults and snapping as she fetched him his things and checked his wound. "Watch it, genius." He'd warned her when she pulled out his stiches, earning him her only reaction at all: a snort._

_"__You should be fine to manage yourself from here on out, you'll be happy to know." She said when she was finished, replacing the book to his shelf she had borrowed to read to him during his period of unconsciousness. Her reading voice was less obnoxious than her answering-in-class voice, he noted in retrospect. _

_"__So you won't be seeing much of me, that is until school restarts."_

_"__You're returning?"_

_"__I want to finish."_

_"__Oh goodie. Another year with golden trio."_

_"__No trio. Just me." She smiled sadly. "Anything I can get you?" She looked around._

_"__You are hardly my servant. If I need something, I'll ring for an elf or summon Poppy."_

_"__Alright then," She looked at him. "I'll be going."_

_"__Just going?" He thought aloud. It seemed strange after all the time she had spent there, caring for him, but he supposed this was just another project for Hermione Granger. She had finished her assignment and was moving on, simple as that. There were bits he did not remember, from before he woke, from bits in between too he guessed. it was all very person to him, dying and living and weakness, but to her it was just duty to some new celebrity, he guessed._

_He'd wept, he knew, spoke in his sleep calling pitifully for Lily, Albus… He'd had nightmares which to his horror she roused him from. There was more he felt he could not remember… gaps where things had been. _

_"__Not going to say goodbye?" He asked. _

_"__Goodbye, professor." She smiled, hands in her jacket pockets._

_"__Thank you, Miss Granger." He said at last, hoping she did not make him regret it. Her smile twisted up on one end. _

_"__You forgive me then?" He was not very much mistaken, she was teasing him._

_"__I do." He granted. "Though I suspect there are others who won't be so forbearing."_

_"__I'll live." She said, unconcerned as ever._

_"__You had better, Miss Granger." He threatened seriously, leading her politely to the door. "I will hold you to that. It's the least you can do."_

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A/N: Almost did not include this part. Very sad. For those of you who hate flashbacks, sorry about this chapter. More to come soon, but not far to go now. Please take a moment and review! It simply makes my day and the more I hear back the faster I update. There were definitely more the last one! Thanks so much.

Yours,

Elsie


	37. Wakened

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or make any profit from this. JK Rowling owns Harry Potter, and she is amazing. Buy all her books.

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A/N: Thank you so much for your response to the last chapter! So many took the time to read and share kind words. I'm immensely grateful. I know it was all flashback, but here are the answers we've been waiting for...

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Chapter 37: Wakened

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"It's the least you can do." Severus whispered. "You had better live, Hermione." He added dangerously. "You aren't going to make me do this alone." Survive. He wasn't supposed to survive, after all. Lily was supposed to live, not him. Harry was supposed to like, to kill Riddle and be the damned hero, not him. Hermione was young and bright and innocent. She was supposed to live and free elves and help muggles and all the weird little things her heart desired. What was he going to do?

What was he going to do?

"How is she?" Potter asked as he paced.

"There's no change." He admitted, his chest squeezing tighter. "You should be questioning that auror of yours!"

"May's in no shape to be questioned." Weasley said darkly, still staring at the floor from where he sat in his chair, hand on his mouth.

"You're not pitying her." Severus took his anger out on the younger man. Potter knew it, cutting him off.

"You know he's not." Potter snapped, not pausing his back and forth. "Just stop it."

Ron stared paled-faced at Snape for a moment seeming to formulate his words. When he did speak, it was very slowly. "You see that girl?" He indicated Hermione.

"I see no _girl_." Snape sneered.

"Right." Said Ron sarcastically. "That's our Hermione." He jabbed himself in the chest with his thumb. "_Our_ Hermione. It wasn't you that saved her from the troll first year, or went and saw her every day she was in the hospital wing petrified! You weren't fighting by her side in the ministry when Sirius died or at Hogwarts when Dumbledore died. You didn't live with her for years or nearly die together a dozen times. We did. That was us. We loved her first. I loved her first." He voice cracked.

"Ron," Harry began softly.

"No, it's not fair." He shook his thick red hair. "She's not yours just because you decided to stop mocking her. She's our Hermione."

Severus nodded. "You hear your freckled friend, Hermione?" He said softly, knowing her friends could hear him in the otherwise silent room. "He's said something intelligent and you've missed it." He kissed her hand in his own, but it was still cool and limp. Her face was slack, though bandaged, not peaceful. She wasn't sleeping.

"My!" A breathless headmistress burst into the room at St. Mungos. He supposed in retrospect he should have summoned her. He had not been able to think of that when it happened. He had not been able to think at all.

Weasley too had crumpled when he barged in Black's family home. Though it was hard to recall anything from the moment, Severus believed the redhead was sobbing. Potter alone assessed the situation, clearing the house. He was the one who realized Hermione still had a faint pulse and took her to St. Mungo's, practically wrestling her from his arms. Weasley retrieved May once Potter explained that Severus would guard Hermione and that they would need May to find out what she had done.

May's wand revealed what spell had been cast. It wasn't a killing curse at least, nor was Hermione's, but what else had happened they could not know.

"Well, someone tell me what on earth has happened." Minerva looked at them each.

Severus remained hunched at Hermione's bedside, across from Ronald Weasley who sat in a chair at the foot of her bed on the opposite side. Between them and the headmistress was Harry Potter who had paused in his pacing and exchanged a glance with his best friend. Snape sighed, "It is unclear as of yet."

"May and Hermione dueled at my place." Potter explained. "We're not clear why."

At that moment, Severus stood, not letting go of Hermione's hand, as Minister Shaklebolt entered.

"Potter. You are needed at once. The Director asked me personally to come get you."

"I quit."

Severus even turned to Potter at that. Weasley stood slowly.

"Potter?" McGonagall was the first to recover.

"Sorry, Minister. I just—I don't want to do this." His hands were flat, pressing down towards the floor. He glanced around the room as he spoke each word as if he were looking at what he did not want to do. In a way, he was. Dueling was one thing; the daredevil inside him would never stop enjoying that electric moment. The aftermath, however, was unexpected and cold. It consisted of graves and sickbeds and narrow misses accompanied by lifelong scars.

And sometimes, the exhilaration died away in the still evenings and let in the fear, the questions, the second guessing. And other times, his intuition that something was about to happen was false and his senses we perked for nothing and heightened vigilance would never lower. It became like living inside a locked house, Severus knew. Potter could feel it happening, and surprisingly he was stopping it.

"I understand." Kingsley said. "But you and Weasley are needed at once at Azkaban for Malfoy Rex's conditional release."

Severus cringed. "Wonderful. When she wakes up, I'll get to tell her they released that lunatic."

"It can't be helped, which is why we need our best men there." Kingsley said calmly.

Harry nodded reluctantly, glancing at Severus. The taller man nodded in the affirmative. He would not leave Hermione alone. McGonagall was watching him, not bothering to hide her question. For the moment, Severus ignored her.

Ron shook his head no, not wanting to leave.

"We'll go and come back." Potter announced, seeming to speak to them both.

Weasley reluctantly followed.

"Severus." Kingsley acknowledged. Snape returned it, retaking his seat at the bedside. Hermione had not stirred.

Minerva approached, gapping at him. He did not respond. "Severus?" She asked quietly.

He gathered his thoughts, or tried to, but they were fluttering too wildly to capture, flittering with his heartbeat. Even in the midst of the chaos- her friends voices arguing his own pleading- Hermione would not move. Her chest barely rose and fell with breath. He had been so sure when he found her…so sure she was gone. Perhaps it was his memory playing tricks on him, he was ashamed to say, but she still looked gone...

"Severus, what is the meaning of this?" Her voice wasn't outraged. It was beseeching. She did not want to believe it was true, not after how she had laughed at the rumors, defended him, let them meet again and again, barely clad late at night. He had, as far as she knew, betrayed his vow as a teacher at least in thought. He had betrayed them all, Albus, Lily...

He forced his eyes closed slowly, his face still not turning away from his former student. He was silent again for a while.

"Headmistress, I will not be returning to school right away. Would you be so kind to make arrangements for my classes and I shall send word to you at once when there is any improvement with Miss Granger."

"When? So, so she will be alright?"

"Yes." He replied too forcefully. "She will be fine." He added quietly, rubbing her hand the way her had during their lessons.

"Severus." Minerva's voice was quiet but firm at Hermione's other side. She gently stroked the young woman's other her hand. She was her student, her house. And what a golden pupil she had been even before she was a little hero. Of course McGonagall loved her too. "What exactly is she to you?" She asked him, though it was not a question, not really. It was a request for the truth at last.

The woman's presence was enough to make him swallow hard before replying. He answered honestly. "I don't know."

She said nothing. He did not glance up to see her frown unapprovingly, to see her eyes dark with disappointment. He put Hermione's hand to rest on his forehead, sighing, draining his energy with holding back emotions fighting each other to escape first. "I don't know." He repeated quietly.

Minerva nodded, leaving it for later given the circumstances. "Whatever she is, whatever happens, send me word immediately. I must return to the school. Tell her when she wakes that I was here."

He glanced up at her note of hopefulness and received her nod as she left, only bowing his own head in return. He knew he should feel more shame than he did. It would come later. For now, all her felt was worry. All he felt was fear.

* * *

Hermione's eyes flickered open. "Welcome back." Someone murmured in her ear.

Immediately she sprang up from where she had fallen, her hand feeling around frantically for her wand. She registered the scene around her had changed, but she responded as fast as she could, reaching for an object on a table at her side. She wrapped her bandaged fingers around it and slung it forcefully into the face of her attacker.

Strong hands captured her wrists. She grunted and shouted in her fury, struggling to escape the grasp of someone with a serpent tattooed on their arm—a dark mark.

"Hermione!" A deep voice bellowed, holding her aching body down on a bed. Wait. A bed. Her eyes snapped up to make contact with two black ones. A familiar face watched her. "Please calm down. You'll injure yourself."

She froze, Severus hovering over her. "You're in St. Mungo's." He explained at once, just as she needed. "We found you. You appeared to have dueled with the auror girl and destroyed most of Black's home." He stopped as he watched the emotions flitter through her face.

She covered her mouth in horror.

"I didn't kill her did I?" Hermione said breathless. "I didn't kill her did I?"

He couldn't answer honestly it seemed. Luckily, he did not have to as Weasley ran into the room.

"She's awake?" He demanded of Snape at once.

"She just woke up." He explained. Normally, she would have protested being talked about as if she weren't there, but she did not care, ripping off her sheets and struggling to sit up, stand.

"She wasn't herself!" She hurried to explain. She hoped May was not in Azkaban or worse. "She wasn't responding properly. She was trying to subdue me. I tried so hard to stun her, fend her off… please tell me she's okay, Ron, please." She begged.

"Get back into bed, Hermione." Severus told her without patience.

"I have to—"

"Now!" He snapped as he would have if she were in third year. She jumped. "Please." He added, his arm extended guiding her back.

Ron watched, catching his breath. "He's right, Hermione. You need to sit down. Both of you." He summoned himself a glass of water.

"Where's Harry?" She asked fearfully.

"Gone."

"Gone?!"

"Um, away. He's chasing Rex, but I don't think he's going to catch up to him…"

"He went after him?" Hermione asked, afraid Harry had jumped to that action with her in hospital.

"Let me explain," Ron swallowed. "Okay. We were at Azkaban to escort Rex and Malfoy safely from the prison, but as they were at the exit, Harry noticed they exchanged a look. Then, Malfoy knew Rex's first name. Rex should have never met Malfoy Senior and Malfoy certainly should not have known a Gryffindor younger than his own son by name… Malfoy wasn't allowed a paper, of course, and his correspondence were monitored...so Harry jumped into action at once, but Rex was prepared."

"How?" She asked.

"I'll get to that. There was a fight, but it was fast. Rex escaped, but Malfoy was stopped." He struggled. "By D-Draco." Severus' eyes went wide.

"Draco?" Hermione was confused.

Ron just nodded, as shocked as they all were. "Apparently, Lucius had been plotting with Rex and Carrow unbeknownst to his son."

"But how? From Azkaban?"

"Through his wife and her family." He answered. "Three guesses where Rex's mother went to school."

"Bueaxbatons." Hermione breathed.

"That's what we were doing right before we got your message." He explained. "We had just got word she had been a student there when Narcissa was. May had to move then, knowing we were going to get the records about Moody killing Rex's mother. Turns out, Rex's mum was a collector of cursed objects. The ministry had been trying to destroy some of them for ages, seized others as 'artifacts of important magical and historical significance.' Riddle valued the objects too, their old magic. Riddle had traded with her family before, possibly for one of his Horcrux objects. He probably knew of her family through his work at Borgin and Burkes. It was rumored Rex's grandfather began a collection that included Ravenclaw's Lost Diadem he'd found in Albania. Three guesses what Riddle may have traded for that."

Hermione looked on in curiosity, her eyes and ears open. "The Slytherin ring."

"That would have been very appealing to Riddle, that ring, which explains why he would have had it." Severus spoke slowly. "But he would have traded anything for that diadem. Then he'd need Gaunt's ring… That would be even more valuable to him."

Ron nodded. "So two collectors wanted to protect powerful magical objects, it was not hard for Riddle later to convince Rex's mother to help him in some way, even help hide his horcruxes since her family's hiding places and her own skill at concealment charms was, apparently, world famous. After our first year, the Malfoys contacted her to retrieve Riddle's diary from her family's protection. See, Rex's family was the diary's original safe keeping place. The Malfoys offered to trade the Gryffindor ring for it."

"Why would Malfoy have a Grffyindor ring?" Hermione inquired, puzzled.

"It was originally supposed to be deadliest to Slytherins while the Slytherin one was most deadly to Gryffindors, hence the reversal when they sent them to you. The legend, really only told in Slytherin House says that,"

Severus picked up the story, each word rising with realization. "The rings were made to sow discord amongst the founders, appearing to be gifts which would actually hurt the recipients. While the victims would be bright and powerful enough to survive, death was not the true objective. Following an argument between Salazar and Godric, the ring was sent to Slytherin as if an apology gift from Gryffindor, but Godric denied sending it. It's blamed for their falling out, Salazar leaving. I'd almost forgotten because it an old fable and no description of the ring was in it." He explained, eyes on Hermione.

"Right." Said Ron. "Malfoy told us the Gryffindor ring went missing from his home after his first year- same time the diary popped up. No one talked about it. It was raid of dark objects where Rex's mother was killed by Moody—at Borgain and Burkes actually; turns out that's how the cabinet was broken. So to Rex, she was just innocent and brilliant. His father did not understand at all…"

She felt no pity for him, surprisingly. "So Rex plotted this?"

"Rex and maybe his mother's side of the family, related by Narcissa's marriage to Malfoys and the Blacks, Narcissa's father's side, who had the other two rings. Rex wanted them eventually. He was probably going to trade, Draco figures. Once Rex got caught, he enlisted Narcissa Malfoy's help with the promise of getting Lucius out of prison with his plot. Draco Malfoy figured it out when he found the other two specially ordered boxes in Malfoy Manor, and he came prepared to the release too.

"It was all planned, see?" Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Carrow attacked in broad daylight because of Narcissa Malfoy's tip. He was _supposed_ to get taken so Malfoy could get out of Azkaban for assisting us with the capture and Rex could get out for being compelled by Carrow. Mrs. Malfoy used Carrow, must have promised him something… or someone."

"But why would Carrow agree to that attack?"

"May doesn't remember much, as she was under imperious- you were right, Hermione- but Snape was able to recover some of the memory. Carrow alone attacked her, waiting for you. That's why she claimed there were two of them; Carrow made her believe that to throw off suspicion. But he did not kill her. An auror was too valuable; he used her to get closer to us all."

"Why not just kill me when he attacked in Diagon Alley?"

"He may have been trying to," Ronald shrugged. "He may not have been in on the whole plan." Ron suggested. "If he was working for Mrs. Malfoy or Rex, he may have been under an order not to kill you, or Rex knew the chances of you surviving, especially with us all there, were good. He knew you were a brilliant witch, Hermione." She supposed it was a compliment. "Considering the rings were not deadly, Rex's attack, the articles… We think Rex has been trying to ruin your reputation and agitate you into a state of... he doesn't want to kill you,"

"He wants to destroy her." Severus finished.

"Once we were closing in on their plot, though, May was forced to act fast. She delivered the rings to Narcissa Malfoy, who was controlling her then—May was supposed to be meeting her for information while we snuck the files. May spelled the house and attacked you."

"But why?"

"We can't be sure of the entire plan, but Malfoy's was to get himself, Carrow, and Rex out of Azkaban. Two were going to walk free today unless we connected them first. But when we left, we had no solid evidence and couldn't string it all together, not until Harry saw their little exchange and snapped. They came prepared for Harry's jump. Rex's lawyer was able to get their wands in, and Narcissa gave hers to her husband in the chaos."

"Umbridge." Hermione said through gritted teeth.

Ron nodded. "In the fight...everything was happening so fast and she, well, she was kissed by dementors." No one spoke for a moment. Hermione would not wish this on anyone, but it still seemed she had finally gotten what she had coming. The woman had too many second chances, and each time she chose to become more deplorable. Ron went on, "Now Harry's under investigation but so is Rex..." He frowned in confusion. "It's a bloody mess. They are playing the victim, as usual." He spat. "Saying Harry's unstable and attacked for no reason, which I guess it could have looked like..." He trailed off, brow creased in worry. He shook it off.

"It seems May was supposed to deliver you to Carrow and the rings to Rex, through Narcissa's control, effectively paying them both for getting her husband out of prison. It didn't work. I stopped Carrow from escaping in the midst of it all," Ron said with pleasure. "Draco got his father, and Harry went after Rex. But he's left the country along with Narcissa Malfoy. I don't know when Harry will come back." He looked dejectedly at the floor. "You know Harry."

"So Rex wanted revenge, but he also wanted the rings. Why? Stupid family legacy? Why throw away Hogwarts, give up his future, everything for those rings? They aren't even lethal."

"It was your last year there, his only chance, his only way to get to you and thereby Potter, me, and Snape, muggles- everyone. He'd learned everything he thought he needed already from school." Ron shrugged. He was right. McGonagall had said Rex was ahead in his studies, gifted.

"Draco reckons it was more than that. He wanted to hurt you, but he wanted to do it in a way that destroyed your image with it, make you look mad, tarnish all muggle borns, the golden trio and everything you'd been standing up for in the magazine… knowing he'd get taken, what defense he'd use and who he would get to present it... which newspaper writers to buy off… which Death Eater's to get to help. He planned the whole thing, played everyone. He wanted to show, Draco says, he could outwit everybody, and he sort of did. Remind you of anyone?"

And it did. Severus was silent, his expression dark.

It reminded her of another young half-blood who lost his mother, someone itching for revenge and obsessed with pureblood heritage, dark magic, and his own underappreciated brilliance. Someone cruel and young and talented. Someone dead.

It was a beautiful plan, she had to admit, intricate and delicate as a spider's web. Rex had wanted to torment her, make her look crazy, hurt her but not go to Azkaban for life for his crimes. But when he found the rings in trying to do that, he wanted them too. So was born a new plan that included manipulating the press, the ministry, and death eaters. Even if he had to set up the sexual assault scene and put on his mudslinging defense to do it, and even if Carrow accidentally killed her, Rex would ruin Hermione in one way or another and walk free with his family inheritance.

Malfoy was played because she only wanted Lucius out of prison. Carrow was played because he wanted revenge on the trio, possibly to use her a lure for Snape, the traitor, but he couldn't use Malfoy's help for that because Narcissa wanted to avoid prison... Even if May could not bring her in, Hermione Granger would only leave the attack dead or a killer of an auror, and no one would ever learn the whole story…

But Rex did not get everything he wanted. Hermione was free. Severus was free. And the new, young enemy was clearly afraid of Harry. Rex was forced to leave with his rings, Harry on his tail. But his family was known for their resources and their concealment charms, and if he'd planned all that in the span of months, how long would he have to plot his next move?

* * *

Ginny and Luna were quick to visit her, even the Headmistress dropped by, but Hermione was anxious to be on her feet again. She had things that needed to be done, she insisted. Though Severus and Luna assured her everything could be handled without her for a while on the publications and both Weasleys – Ginny and Ron—kept repeating school did not start for weeks, she had other plans in the making. Luckily, Bill, George and Mr. Welling came by, and she was able to quietly assimilate her references and a hatch a plan. She had a meeting with a Gringotts loan officer she could not afford to miss, so preying on their paranoia, she convinced Severus and her friends she was a sitting duck target at St. Mungos and could recuperate at Grim.

As Hermione was finally being released, May was taking a turn in the hall, regaining her strength with the help of Ron and Neville. It was a pitiful sight, a fit young woman leaning on two men to walk a few feet.

The moment was awkward when the saw each other at the end of the hall, just in passing. Ron stood stock still. Severus angled his body in between them. Neville scowled, looking from one to the other. May looked meekly to Hermione. Her mouth was open as if she wanted to say something, but she closed it.

Hermione pushed past Snape with one arm and went directly to her. Everyone was on edge, but they need not be. May put up no defenses, just managed to blurt: "Hermione, I'm—" before Hermione hugged her. "So Sorry." They said at once.

Hermione could feel the eyes on her as keenly as she felt her own sappy embarrassment, but she did not care. There was nothing so emotional as relief, and it was so thick it could have spilled from her veins. She thought she had killed someone, someone trapped in their own mind and body, having lost total control. Though if she had killed someone face to face it would have bothered her regardless of who it was, that possibility was somehow even more monstrous.

May hugged her back for a second, then looked into Hermione's shied face for reason. "Well, I suppose we can be friends now." Hermione smiled.

May laughed. "Sure. With friends like these, who needs enemies?"

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A/N: So I realize Ron's story was kind of all over the place. I was trying to make it clear while still telling it in that confused, fresh, Ronald way. Hope it all made sense. What did you think of Umbridge's fate, etc.? And what is next for Severus and Hermione? Please take a second to review! Depending on how many are reading or reviewing during this busy time, I may be posting the final chapters for Christmas or I can post a chapter for Christmas and then end it for New Years! It's entirely up to you all.

Yours,

Elsie


	38. Wading

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

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A/N: Well the word is split on when to end this, so I'll be trying my best to give you the finale for Christmas. I would absolutely love us to break to 900 reviews in exchange, so review, review and I'll keep posting until we get to chapter 40-the end. That's one per day ;) Happy Christmas and thanks to all of you!

Warning: Material ahead rated T-M.

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Chapter 38: Wading

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_Dear Hermione,_

_I hope you have recovered completely and are taking it easy at home as the healers suggested, but I know you are not and I am very disappointed in you. I have not sent you any notes back because you need not be worrying with them and because the first years appear to have begun a contest to see who can annoy me the most. Some idiot has told them not referring to me "Sir Snape," "my liege," or "Severus the Great Protector" will curse their tongues so that they can only taste earwax the rest of their lives. If you, Weasley, and Potter were still here I would find the culprit easily enough. I hope to see one of you again soon. _

_Yours,_

_Severus_

She chuckled at that. Who would have suspected he had such a sense of humor?

Work with Severus on the book had slowed since he returned to Hogwarts. She compiled things and edited them, mailed them off for his notes, and waited until she received something else to do. Apart from that, they exchanged letters here and there. She tried not to bombard him too regularly and look desperate and to not appear as excited as she was to have a pen pal who actually wrote back.

It was just as well as, as she had more than enough to be getting on with in the meantime. Hermione worked during the week alongside Luna with the magazine and alongside Mr. Wellings overseeing the plans for her new business. _Her new business._ It still sounded so strange. She had asked the bank to not reveal who was negotiating to purchase the foreclosed bookstore. Her name had been in the press enough, and it wouldn't be drawing anyone in to buy. So far, they had managed to keep it secret as she meet request after request and filled out form after form. If she was a colossal failure then, not everyone need know. Bill and George knew. Of course, Harry and Ron knew, and then Neville found out, but he could be discrete.

She had not told Severus. She might be making a terrible mistake or the best decision of her life, and she was terrified he'd know which one it was.

_Dear Severus,_

_Or should I say, my liege. I am so sorry to have disappointed you. Perhaps you should show me the error of my ways. I do assure you I am taking it as easy as possible. I have a lot of preparing to do as I start classes next week. I'm very nervous and excited. Sorry about your trouble with the students. I'm sure you'll beat them into shape soon enough._

_Yours,_

_Hermione _

In fact, she had a lot of preparing to do that day. Bill had sent word the loan officer had a talk with him, so she presumed he had also taken a look at her account- with her winnings she assumed she would have to put up as collateral- and had talked to Griphook. As it was, she had a grateful Mr. Wellings and an excited George Weasley's agreement to help her manage the business. George wrote a glowing reference as did the headmistress. She might have asked Harry for the third if he had been in the country, but Gringotts was a responsible, logical establishment that would not be swayed by fame alone.

Thus, it was time, she believed, for Draco Malfoy to pay his debt. His family had been trying to ruin her life, after all. One of the richest and oldest patrons of the bank, Malfoy's brief recommendation and- she nearly lost her jaw to read- _person guarantee_ on her business' success would stand alone as security. She had asked him in her letter not to yet mention it to Severus. As she received only a copy of his letter to the bank in response, she assumed he agreed. All their words of confidence in her in the letters to the bank brought tears to her eyes, but she desperately hoped she did not fail them.

She wore a black skirt suit this time under new black robes, and she was perfectly dry, paperwork in hand as she entered the bank. This time, she had too much time to think it though. Her throat threatened to close as she was finally let in and took her seat across the fat desk in the shorter chair. But really, if the loan was guaranteed by Malfoy while the Headmistress of Hogwarts and owner of the best business on the street were confident in her ability, it seemed enough even for Gringotts... she hoped.

Hermione tried desperately not to sound young or nervous as she explained her plan. Twice she caught her leg bouncing uncontrollably. But organization prevailed again. She need not have feared. They'd be stupid, after all, not to give a guaranteed loan to Hogwart's brightest graduate, with all her connections and little experience. Her thrill of excitement threatened to escape as a girly squeal when he nodded impatiently at last, but she kept it smothered.

"I don't see why not." Mr. Pevensie. _'I don't see why not.' _Since there was no higher authority on these things than he, all that remained was him to review the terms, and with those simple words, her life changed.

Almost as soon as the relief and joy washed over her, the doubt set in like cold talons. The quill felt heavier than usual when she signed the papers...it was just so much money. But as she walked out with a new burden on her shoulders so real she thought everyone in the street would see it, she also felt a rush of exhilaration run through her as the reality set in that she was a business owner- and not just any business, a bookstore. 'Oh, this is what real life feels like,' she thought. She was just wading in to her own.

* * *

_Dear Hermione,_

_Enclosed you will find my notes on the edits you made. I am sure you and Potter have made the proper arrangements for your protection going to and from your classes. With Rex at large, you cannot take too many precautions. I cannot imagine anything else you should worry about._

_Yours,_

_Severus_

His last lines were to express his confidence in response to her anxiousness over classes, she was sure. His responses could seem blunt, but the care was in there, if hidden. She penned the good news to him quickly.

_Dear Severus,_

_Harry is still abroad hunting him, but his family has is so gifted at concealment charms Riddle himself sought them out, and he has Narcissa Malfoy and Blacks abroad helping him. I do not think he would risk returning any time soon. He is much too calculated for such a risk. I will be careful, of course, but what worries me more is the complexity of his last scheme. What does he now have time to concoct? I don't mean to worry you though. By the way, I've just bought Flourish and Blotts. And it's done and done, so no 'Miss-Granger-that's-not-a-good-idea's._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

His response arrived the same day.

_Dear Hermione, _

_You are an exceedingly naughty witch. You say you wish not to worry me, but in the same letter force me to do so. And shame on you as well for not telling me of your plans until you had purchased an entire establishment. What do you mean you've 'just bought Flourish and Blotts'? Explain. _

_Yours,_

_Severus_

She laughed and shook her head, stroking the cat as Ron made dinner, or rather brought in the his favorite muggle invention: Chinese take away. She could just hear Severus tone as he slowly forced out those words. _Explain. _She supposed she had better offer an explanation, so she wrote with tentative pride of how it had come to her, seemed to fit together and how she had prepared everything herself...

* * *

Hermione Granger pulsated with excitement. It shot right through her boots and into the stones of the campus walkway. There was a little concern magic might actually free the stones, but it did not. As she located her first classroom, not quite filled with half a dozen people one of whom had a speech impediment and one who smelled of cats, Hermione smiled; she might not be going to a top university, but where she was she could study what she liked, and she thought her parents would be rather proud of that.

She had a classe there twice per week in the evening and had to apparate Tuesdays nights to another place where she took a similar course under a different instructor: book making, binding, and preservation. In the meantime, she picked up another class at the learning center on business, one that could go towards a foundation degree if she ever decided to go that route. As it was, bookmaking was a fascinating topic as the muggles taught it, and it she took careful notes to research the spells and magic involved in the making of books for witches and wizards.

The night after her first weeks of classes concluded, she chattered away happily to Ron about the art and ancient practice of bookmaking, who was good enough to try not to look bored, then went upstairs to write every detail to Harry. When she went up to bed, however, she found something she had not expected sitting on her bedside table. Chocolate éclairs.

_"__You must come for dinner and tell me all about it or you're strain your wrist."-Severus._

She could not find time to visit him for several weeks, which was just the same since Severus had a lot on his own plate. On the day they finally had plans, there were flowers on the dining room table on Number 12, and something about them looked wildly out of place. They were a giant bouquet, burgeoning out of their vase with red and white roses, red carnations, and little purple sprigs of some tiny blossoms. It was beautiful, and it soaked the room in a sweet scent.

She neared them curiously, suspecting another grand gesture from Harry to Ginny, the latter of which had been in and out visiting Hermione, but the card on the table had her name scrawled across it.

* * *

"Thank you for the éclairs." She smiled at dinner. He only nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards she spied. "And the roses, though I have to say, it was a surprise."

"What roses?" His voice was deadpan, his body stiffened when she looked up.

She felt as if a dementor had sucked something out of her. Instinctively, she glanced at the rose over his shoulder concealed safely in its glass case. "You- you didn't send the flowers."

"Did you touch them?" He said at once.

"No." She breathed as if it were obvious, but then she had to think about it. Did she? No, no she had not. "Maybe it was Harry, or – or."

He was already standing, throwing down his napkin. "You can ask and I will ask Draco, but we both know who this was."

She said nothing, looked down at the table and the meal she would never finish.

"Was there a note?"

She nodded, not wanting to look at him. She was embarrassed; she should have figured it out. A hand lifted her chin to put her glimmering eyes on him.

"What did it say?" He asked, his voice slightly softer.

"It had my name on it, and…"

"And?" He demanded impatient.

She let out a breath, knowing she had to answer. It seemed so obvious now. "It said: 'Miss you.'" The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

His eyes were cold, angry. "And you thought it was from me?"

The words made her eyes prickle worse, furrow her brow in confusion. "Of course. I shouldn't have?"

His expression changed. "No, I-" He ran a hand through his hair, looking around as if unsure. She stood, tentatively touching his arms.

"Severus, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Hermione." He answered, his voice unusually expressive.

"Sorry for what?"

"For snapping at you. I'm always snapping at you, and you don't deserve it." The revelation shocked her.

He seemed to be berating himself. "Well," She smiled a little. "Not _always_."

"How do you put up with me?" He cupped her cheek, but he wasn't really looking at her. She hugged him around the middle like a child. She did not care.

"I have astounding amounts of self-control." She answered into him. The shake of his body laughing took her by surprise. She smiled widely into his torso at the deep sound. She did that, she thought proudly. She made Severus Snape laugh. She felt his hand affectionately on her head, petting her hair. "Let's not tell Harry." She said. He pulled away to look at her. "He is already tormenting himself. He needs to come home. There is nothing we can do. Rex is biding his time, taunting again."

"As you wish." He answered after a bit. She nodded, looking around his quarters. Now what?

"I've always liked this room." She said. "You know what the best thing about it is?"

"What?" He asked, not sounding the least bit interested.

"We won't be disturbed." And surprising even herself, she sat on the foot of his bed and looked up at him.

He stared at her, then shook his head once and crossed the space quickly. His hands were on her jaw, lifting her head to kiss her, his hair falling along the sides of her face, tickling her. Another hand clutched her upper arm, then her side, her back. His knees moved the edge of the bed. As it sunk under her, his hands were in her hair, tangling there, tugging a little.

His lips pressed light kisses to the spot behind her ear, trailing down her jawline, her neck. She closed her eyes, savoring it. Her hands fell onto his chest; she inhaled his scent. She could not really manage to do more than fumble open a few of the buttons down his chest.

One of his large knees was on the bed to her left, the other nestled between her thighs before she could realize. With one hand on her back as he kissed her neck then her collarbone, he loomed over her, reclining her back to lay on the bed.

"You're very warm, Hermione." He teased, twirling her hair between his fingers as he hung above her, holding himself up with one arm. "Are you feeling alright?"

She narrowed her eyes, smiling up at him. The bed under her was very comfortable. "You know perfectly well that I'm fine." She playfully slapped his chest, wiggling under him. "You wicked Slytherin."

His smile turned slightly menacing, and for a moment she feared she should not have mentioned school…but just as she opened her mouth to correct herself, she audibly choked on her words as his fingers grazed the inside of her thigh.

"Are you quite sure?" He feigned concern. "You are very, very hot, sweetheart."

She bit down on her lower lip, hard, sucking it at _that_ word. His finger tickled her leg, inching higher up her dress and the soft inside of her thigh. He leaned down lower with painstaking slowness and whispered into her ear, his chest rumbling against her breasts. "Are you sure?"

She whimpered in response, squirming a little in her own skin. When she did, her core brushed his fingers and her leg rubbed along his thigh as he still rested on his knees. He rose a few inches- to observe the effect he was having on her no doubt. "What have we here?" He asked one syllable at a time.

She felt his fingers graze her panties for a half second. Her body arched as he pulled away at once, entirely of its own accord.

She ran her hand through her hair in desperation, the other clutching at her dress, fisting the fabric. He took her hand from her dress into his own then pulled the other free from her hair, sitting back on his knees. In an instant, his knees were on either side of her, his hands interlaced with her own as he leaned forward. He held himself up by his hands pinned at either side of her head.

His eyes were black and lustful over her, but there was humor in the corners and the hint of something softer as he looked down over every inch of her body. She already felt naked under his gaze.

She sucked her lower lip again. He spied it, narrowing his eyes and descending at once on her mouth. "Give that to me." He growled softly, sucking on it himself. When he released the swollen, teased morsel, she moaned. "It's mine." He nearly snarled, placing a chaste kiss to the spot.

She choked, helpless below him. Then, her intellect returned, and a tricky idea popped into her head. Carefully, she bent her knee, gliding it along the inside of his leg and coming in contact with his stiff crotch. She rubbed it gently, causing him to inhale sharply and hang his head, pausing, she presumed, to get ahold of himself.

"You're being a tease." He warned her.

"I'm being a tease?" She laughed.

"You're prettiest when you smile." He commented thoughtfully, inches from her face. It jarred her. It wasn't just a steamy moment then. He did not compliment her often, but he had in _that_ moment. She had always expected Severus to be commanding and somewhat distant in bed. He was distant emotionally enough to begin with, but perhaps this was why he waited for this moment...

"Thank you." She breathed.

He buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. The weight of his body shifted on top of her, his hands releasing her to drift down the sides of her body, resting on her hips. He squeezed there a bit. She wrapped her arms around his neck, attacking the crook his neck as he laid on his forearms. He allowed her attention for only a moment then tore away, laying on his side to her left with his hand stroking a line down between her breasts to the top of her dress.

He seemed mildly entertained by her torture, but his expression grew increasingly thoughtful. She took his hand, about to ask him everything was alright when there was a knock at the door.

"Severus?" McGonagall's accent reached through the door. "You're needed." She had no idea.

He crept into his office where Hermione could hear them talking but could not make out the words. She tried not to fall asleep in the comfy bed with his voice rumbling on the other side of the door, but she had been so busy lately and was very tired.

* * *

When he re-entered his room, the headmistress safely gone, he found Hermione sleeping so peacefully in his bed that he resigned himself to a sigh and cold shower, half hoping the running water would wake her. It did not.

Watching her sleep, he sunk onto the bed beside her and deep into his own torturous thoughts. He knew she was ready for him, and he knew he was avoiding it.

It was not easy resisting both her unwitting and entirely-witting advances and temptations. He was a man after all, and she was grown woman with many attractive qualities. In fact, the closer they became physically, the more he found her to be perfectly delicious. But he was becoming increasingly unnerved by his what had begun as a preoccupation with and was swiftly growing into an attachment to the young woman.

He had been nothing short of mortified when he found her after the duel, waiting by her bedside while she did not move. He missed her, he hated to admit, leaving his mood at school fouler than usual. He—though he did not confess it—enjoyed spending time with her. It was her steady kindness and patience, her sharp mind and dry wit, her body, to be honest. He was jealous when young men swarmed around her, or old men, or women with wandering eyes.

What did he think was going to come of it? Minerva had insisted they discuss the situation when he returned. He had avoided her until that moment.

As she expressed her numerous concerns, little did she know who was in the other room...

She had a point. He had not, as Minerva asked, let go of Lily. Hermione was much younger than he, and while she was by no means insinuating that he was some sort of pervert, she did raise the question of their compatibility. Yes, he was content with their relationship as it was, but would that be what Hermione wanted? She was young and had her entire life ahead of her, nearly endless potential. Would she want to one day be married and have children, things he had long ago set aside?

Was it fair to her, Minerva pressed, to let her fall in love with him and give himself to her only to take up her youth and ultimately break her heart when she had to let go? He knew he was not good for her. She grew more beautiful with each day, but he was nothing to look at and would only age more miserably. He was short tempered and withheld affection from her. She did not deserve it, did not deserve to help care for him when he aged before her.

It was not his fault! He had insisted. He did not even realize what was happening, still was not sure. He was never supposed to survive anyway, but he had. Not sure what else to do, he returned to work where she needed his help. What else could he do? He had helped her. He had never planned nor dreamed it would grow into whatever it was that made his insides contort painfully with anxiety and desire.

This did not even begin to address, as Minerva observed, the effects a relationship between them would have on him and his reputation. He gave them not a thought. Yet the question became: hurt her now by rejecting her or hurt her later by disappointing her?

He brushed aside a stray hair from her face and counted her breaths, thinking for a moment of waking her and making love to her then and there. To ensure he did not tie his noose any tighter, he sent her home instead and laid awake wondering how it was he could be so weak that he could not push her away properly as he had done so many for so long.

He wanted her. She wanted him. Did they not deserve to have what they wanted? Had they not earned that right?

He knew what he owed her, and he resolved to give her that. If he could not, having her would be taking advantage, so he would not have her. That was that. Now, it was up to him to do the right thing.

* * *

Hermione awoke at home hot and bothered and more than offended how easily he cast her aside or how afraid he might be to be found with her. Was he embarrassed? Ashamed?

Maybe she was being insensitive. She had no idea how or when Severus had lost his virginity, but she was inclined to believe, from what she had seen, he refrained in general from becoming too involved with anyone, especially since Riddle's return. Having relations now might be different and new, so he was unsure. Having lost the girl he wanted to lose his virginity to, he may not be used to sex being mixed with intimacy. In fact, given death eater proclivities, he might associate sex with some other perverse, unpleasant activities.

She went down to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and found a pair of people sitting at the table. A pair.

"Harry!" She hugged him tightly.

"I can't breathe, Hermione."

"I don't care." She told him, releasing him anyway.

"I didn't find him." He admitted at once.

"No. His family mastered concealment charms and he's pretty crafty when he wants to be, unfortunately. We'll get him eventually. Just glad you're home." She offered.

"Exactly." Ron agreed from his seat behind him.

"You've just missed Ginny." Harry told her. He did not sound pleased.

"She didn't say hello." She said, disappointed. Ginny had been by to stay with her right after she was released by the hospital and had taken the news of her and Severus surprisingly well. She was quiet mostly and kept asking if she was sure they were seeing each other...as if a spell might have hit her to confuse her. But was she sure.

"I thought you were out." Ron explained.

"I was." She said. "What happened?"

"We're, er, taking a break." Harry answered.

"Oh."

"Apparently." He added.

"Oh." She repeated knowingly.

"She was pretty angry with me about the Carrow thing, and we've both been so busy we'd barely seen each other since then. Taking off after Rex without talking to anyone, checking on you, taking anyone with me, or letting her know I was okay was unacceptable. She said I don't have a girlfriend for the time being, but I shouldn't notice a difference."

Ron looked awkwardly away, to his credit not saying a word. Harry seemed to be more hurt by this than even he expected. Still, the three spent the evening together, avoiding talk of Ginny or Snape or anyone else. She laughed until her face hurt as Harry lost exploding snap and was forced to eat a suspiciously colored Bertie Bot bean.

Still, it played in the back of Hermione's head. Was it a fear of intimacy from his heartbreak or from some other trauma, perhaps at Riddle's hand that kept Severus from crossing that line? Could it just be her he was avoiding the pressure of being her first, bedding her in the school where she had been a child? It no longer mattered to her. Enough was enough. She was not a Gryffindor for nothing. Time to stop toeing the water and dive.

* * *

A/N: What is Hermione going to do, and what will be the result? Thoughts on their correspondence, Hermione's new career, the quality Severus time, or Harry's news? Please take a second to review. It absolutely makes my day! Hope you are all enjoying the holiday season!

Yours,

Elsie


	39. Wanton

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

* * *

A/N: Hope you all are busy enjoying yourselves! Thanks to all of you who reviewed the last chapter already. I've noticed a lot of guests taking the time too, and it's much appreciated! To everyone logged in, I was on a time crunch, so I haven't replied yet though I've read them all twice and will be doing so!

Do take a moment to review. It's all I want for Christmas!

Warning. Really rather graphic stuff. Please don't read if you aren't old enough or are faint of heart or are easily offended or otherwise a prude :) Again, this is my first M-rating-for a reason. Check the title below.

This was edited quickly, as you know, so forgive any mistakes I missed.

* * *

Chapter 39: Wanton

* * *

Hermione Granger really put herself to the task. She was determined, and where Hermione Granger was determined, she usually succeeded. It took a great amount of research and hours of practicing, but at last she was confident she had made her discovery. Although she had work to be getting on with from school, from the bookstore orders, and with the magazine (an article called "Debunking Muggle Myths") she was organized enough to get it all done, and when she next could meet Severus to go over a little of his notes and discuss their weeks over dinner, she had her weapons ready.

She knew she looked nice that evening because even Ron mentioned it on her way out the door. Severus stared at her more than normal as they made conversation over dinner in his chambers. She knew she smelled nice, like strawberries, because of her bath bubbles and lotion assured it. Strawberries were his favorite—she had not forgotten.

She was equally well aware that her simple shoulder-less dress in grey and green, not quite emerald but Slytherin-ish, was flattering and that he liked the tie up, black heels she was wearing. Even her hair stayed in its twist, thanks to Fleur and _Witch Weekly_. She was wearing a very nice push up bra and matching silky panties that somehow made her feel more attractive and confident.

Hermione Granger was armed and ready for battle. Severus Snape did not know it, but resistance was futile. And even though she played innocently, she knew what she was doing when she took the tip of éclair into her lips and sucked it, licking chocolate from it and moaning with delight.

When she opened her eyes, he was glaring at her. "You wicked, little witch." He growled, standing and crossing. "Are you trying to seduce me?" He hissed into her ear, standing behind her. She swallowed the desert, putting it down.

"Yes." She managed.

"Well, that is naughty, Miss Granger." He murmured making her shiver. The rest of her body responded immediately, lit up like a wand tip. "Naughty witches should be punished, should they not?" She gulped, nodding. "Stand up."

She did so, nearly trembling as she pushed in her chair. If he was trying to scare her off, tease her until she backed off as if they were playing chicken, he was in for a rude awakening. She launched onto him, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him, hard.

He lifted her against him, squeezing, and she could tell she was already effecting him too... When he set her down, she poked him with her finger in the center of his chest and backed him against his bed, forcing him to sit. She straddled him then, knowing her breasts were in his face. She took that face in her hands carefully and kissed him, very slowly. When she let go, at last he reached up to cup her breasts through her dress, and she had to let her head fall back at the feel of his fingers around her even through the fabric.

Again, she kissed him. "I want you." She murmured against his lips, tearing at his clothes to get closer to him. He was wrapped up in the passion as well his hands around her curves clutching her almost painfully tight. She did not mind.

"Hermione." He said against her mouth as he kissed her in a frenzy. Her lips stung with the force. He was smelling her hair, losing his hold over himself.

"Severus, please."

"Hermione." He surrendered and laid back, bringing her on top of him. His dark eyes bore into hers so she found herself blinking quickly. There were no thoughts there to decipher. She rocked her hips again him, then kissed him again clutching his shirt front.

Having broken them apart, rolling over on top of her, he paused, running a hand through his hair and catching his breath. "What has gotten into you?" He asked in earnest.

"I told you. I want you." she shrugged, playing with his buttons and chewing her lip.

"Regretfully, now is not the best time."

"You always say that." She attempted to pout.

He frowned. She half expected him to say something along the lines of 'we should talk'. For a moment—just a flash—there was light of hope ignited in his eyes. Then it was gone with a shake of his head. "I'm sorry."

* * *

Severus tried to get ahold of himself. He had stopped putting off the inevitable and finally had her over for dinner. He had resolved to tell Hermione exactly how he felt and how bad of an idea it was to get involved with him. The trouble with this plan was twofold. First, it took him weeks to decipher the answer to exactly how he felt for her, and he still could not really articulate it. The second problem with his intentions for that evening-his _honest_ intentions-was he had not factored in that Hermione Granger would arrive determined to seduce him.

She had surprised him yet again with her efforts, and he found himself struggling to resist temptation. She wanted him so badly, like no woman perhaps had ever wanted him. Part of him wanted to satisfy that need; he knew he could do things to her she could not imagine.

But there was the reality of that too. She had been eleven years old and in her first potions class not twenty yards from where they had been enveloped in passion, and something about that made him feel like a pervert no matter how much she had matured.

It was ridiculous. They were both adults, both willing. There was no reason to deny themselves freedom. He did worry she would be emotionally effected by him being her first. And there was the issue her wanting him at all. He wasn't very nice to her. But he knew better than to voice his concerns. She would be offended and probably angry. She would be right too; she was an adult and could make her own decisions about what she wanted.

But in that room... _there_ in the school. Not that doing it in _Potter's_ house would be any better. He'd rather eat blast ended skrewts.

And he knew he owed her honesty before he could go through with it, give her false hope. He buried his face hard into his palms and tried to think- to think of anything, really, but the way she smelled, how hot she burned, how she looked soaking wet on his sofa...

* * *

Hermione blew out a huff of air when she found herself in her own bed, but she was prepared for this. First, she steadied her breathing, then pulled out her wand and concentrated. Hard.

It was not good enough to picture the bed, she had learned easily practicing from Harry's empty one. She had to think of her absolutely most scandalous, carnal desires. She had to very, very desperate for his, er, company before it would work… When she was confident she had perfectly imagined the room and precisely what she wanted to do in it, she vanished her dress and shoes and performed one more spell.

A split second later, she was back in his bed, beaming triumphantly. She laid on her back, clad only in her bra and panties, and just breathed for a moment. He was sitting on the edge of his bed at her left, face in his hands. It took a few moments for him to turn around. The pure shock on his face was so blatant she laughed aloud.

"You forget." She smirked. "How clever I am."

"But how?"

"I invented a reversal spell." She said nonchalantly, playing with her fingernails.

"You invented it?" He arched an eyebrow.

She rolled onto her stomach like a cat. "You're not the only one who can create their own spell, you know. I reversed it." She crawled towards him, but he stood still watching her like his mouth was watering.

"You want me to take you." He asked carefully.

"I do. If you want to…"

"You know I do, but not… like this. I know I'm avoiding this." He admitted, playing with her hair, running it along his lips and inhaling as she fought her stomach from plummeting in disappointment. "I can't always control myself around you, but I don't want to hurt you." His face was pained.

She brushed away the hair falling in his face. "You won't." He was fighting with himself, but what the fight was, she could not guess. Her brow fell at his reaction, but she knew what she had to say: the real magic words. "I—I need you."

"Don't say that."

"I need you, Severus."

"Damn you, incorrigible woman. I told you I wanted you, only I was waiting for something else first…"

"What?" She demanded. "What are you waiting for?"

"I was waiting until I could tell you I love you."

"Oh." She scooched back, sitting on his bed with her legs awkwardly folded under her.

"You deserved as much." He said quietly. "Only I did not think—try to understand—I've never…I was not sure I could give that to you, and I did not want to use you just because you were in need of passion. I told you, I did not want to hurt you."

She was staring at his black sheets, not his face. She could not bear it. 'So' she thought with disdain. 'So, he was not fucking her because he could not love her and he thought for some reason, because she was so young and innocent and weak she supposed, that he couldn't fuck her without loving her even if she thought she wanted it. That's what he thought about it.'

She had shrunk from him, backing to the other edge of the bed, planning her escape and wishing she had left her clothes on…It would have been easier.

* * *

She was as ready to dart as a startled animal, barely hearing his confession. He heard the words pouring from him and felt a release like nothing he had ever felt, save maybe in handing those memories over to Potter. For the first time in decades -decades- he could be honest and express his own mind and feelings- no, that he could _feel_ anything at all. He felt liberated, as if he were actually lifting from the ground, but Hermione was oblivious to his freedom, the alien way his words sounded to him when they were not carefully selected, trimmed and colored. She was clearly crushed.

As brilliant, determined, and powerful as she was, rejection, as she took it, was crippling. He hated himself in that instant. Hated, like when he called Lily a mudblood. Part of him felt he was doing the right thing, sparing her the heartache he would bring her by being a terrible mate, but he was weak, weaker in that moment than he had ever been.

He did not care if it ended badly, did not care if she used to be his student or if people would hate him for what he wanted to do to her. He wanted her. He wanted her more physically than he had ever wanted another woman, and more than that he had absolutely no strength to see her hurt like that. Not his Hermione. She deserved better.

And even though he knew he was not saving her from latter heartache, he had to save her then. He had to give in the months of torment her close proximity and growing beauty had been. He, Severus Snape, gave in to weakness.

He knowingly did the wrong thing.

"Hermione." He took a step forward, his legs pressed against the bed.

"Yes?" She could not look up at him, so he took her by the shoulders.

He pressed her tightly, protectively—as if there was anything to protect her from in that room of all places—to his chest, cradling her head in his hands. He murmured into her hair, scarcely able to say the words. "I love you."

And he had her.

* * *

She blinked. Hermione was pretty sure of two things: that Severus Snape had just said he loved her, which also implied he was going to make love to her _at that moment_, and that she was no longer breathing. It was a shame really; she would really have liked to live long enough to enjoy that.

"Breathe, my dear." He instructed, nearly chucking against her as he laid her shocked, unmoving body onto the bed. It was happening, she realized as his hot tongue lapped at the boney spot behind her ear and she moaned loudly, pressing her body against his. "That's better." His chest rumbled against her. He was clearly amused at his handiwork.

His hands roved over every rise and fall of her body. She jerked his shirt closer to her to kiss his mouth, but he pulled her hands off him. She fought back, grabbing her wand to vanish his shirt.

He took the wand away and put theirs both on the table as she admired him shirtless. "Not that kind of magic." He murmured into her mouth. He held himself over her allowing her to take in all the lines of his chest—bone, muscles, and sinews under pale flesh—while chewing her index fingernail and trailing her other one down his chest to his pants. She giggled.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Not fair really." She told him. "I'm just in my knickers and—"

He dropped his pants at once to appease her, crawling back in on top of her in just his boxers. She could see him pushing against the black fabric. He kissed his way down her chest, her legs, to the top of her foot. She was a little embarrassed at that, but she had no time to think of it as he had her calves in her hands and from the bedside he kissed all the way up her legs while massaging the muscles.

Well, not all the way up. She gasped loudly when he kissed her panties, throwing her head back and leaping on her elbows.

"Are you trying to hold back your reaction?" He had moved to whisper deep into her ear.

She nodded, biting her lip. He kissed her throat. "Don't." He murmured against it.

He was gone again. She stared at the ceiling until she felt his tongue pressed against the wet cloth between her legs. Then she saw stars. Literally. Her vision went funny. He slid his fingers along the panty edges, barely dipping the tips inside. "I can see you've been schooled in the Dark Arts." She managed. "I've never heard of such torture." He massaged her thighs and buttocks, knead the muscle there. She moaned. "Severus."

He pressed light kisses up her leg. Hands clutching around her ribs, easily lifting her to position them further up the bed. He kissed up her stomach in between her breasts. Hesitating above the bra, he looked at down her. Of their own accord her fingers reached up to brush his hair.

He lowered his warm mouth to her nipple and kissed it through the bra. He pulled her into his lap facing him. She kissed his jaw, ear, neck, sucking, even risking a light bite trying to find a way to please him. He moaned in response, and she burned with pride.

He clutched her so tightly it nearly hurt, pulling her close. Her legs were wrapped around him. She liked the feel of him against her crevice, craved more.

"Perfect." He murmured looking down at her breasts. He began kissing them lightly all around the bra, squeezing them from underneath. She ran her hands through his soft hair, tossing her head back as he pulled it down. Until she felt his wet lips around her nipple. She watched his tongue swirl circles around the pink centers, as she tried to force in air.

He laid her down gently, stroking her hair with one hand as the other held him over her. Then he was holding onto her hips for support, so tightly. He lowered himself onto her and rubbed against her. Her hips bucked up into him. He did it slowly and she was so desperate, wriggling under him just to feel more of him, the silk of their underclothes slipping against each other.

He pulled away, leaving her gasping, "No, no, no."

"It's alright," He assured her, slipping his fingers in her panties from the side. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart." He bent his finger, stroking her there for a moment. Then began teasing her with his fingers, pushing the fabric covering her aside. He watched her reaction hungrily. "Don't hold it in, darling. Let me know when you like it."

She let go, writhing, back arching, moaning and nearly squealing. Her mind was chaos. She felt like she might literally go crazy. She did not care. When he was done with her body they could just cart her off to St. Mungos.

'What did you do to her?' Harry would demand. She almost laughed at that thought.

His finger entered her, cutting her laughter away with a gasp. She stopped moving a moment, eyes flying open. Embarrassed she tried to go back into her previous state, but his movement was… well, it stung, burned like a cut hitting open air. As he went deeper, it grew in discomfort. He stopped. She was holding her breath, begging him to not ask…

"You're so tight." He whispered, kissing up and down her neck. "I want to feel you, but I don't want to hurt you."

"I don't care." She answered honestly. Honestly, she wished he'd get it over with. He pulled away and looked down at her. She smiled up at him.

He returned to her knickers and slowly tugged them off, lifting her legs to his lips by the ankles and kissing all the way up again. He said something she did not hear. Her eyes had rolled back in anticipation of what he was about to do. And then she felt a wave of self-consciousness as his mouth came in direct contact with her throbbing body. She knew she was so wet, could feel it on her legs, but he did not care. His lips worked against hers, tongue flickering inside her then out swiftly. She wished she could stop her hips from moving against him, but to her amazement he seemed to enjoy her reaction, enjoy her even, slipping his hands pulling her to him.

She screamed, not moaned or whimpered or sighed, but screamed nonsense. Her mind was on the verge of surging into nothingness. She didn't know her name. She didn't know where she was. If the Minister of Magic himself had walked in at that moment, she would have begged Severus to ignore him and finish.

He pulled away. "Please," She whimpered, "Please."

"Come, sweetheart." He murmured, pleasing her with his fingers.

"Severus!" She gasp his name out again and again, not understanding why her eyes watered as the force of it hit her. Her legs ached.

He chuckled, lying next to her. His hand played over her skin, raising goose pimples, his fingers teasing her wet entrance and spreading her a bit, rubbing her nub until she bit her lip. He took the lip into his own mouth. "No, no." He tsk-ed softly, delicately caressing her twinging lip. "Don't hurt yourself." He whispered against her mouth.

"Severus…" But she had nothing to say.

He growled and a primal jolt of excitement ran through her. He was on top of her, rubbing roughly against her. She spread her legs as his hands ground into her body massaging, relaxing her.

She nibbled his collarbone, drug her fingernails lightly across his back. He was shaking with restraint at that. She did not want him to restrain himself anymore. In that moment, she was sure she was immune to pain anyway. It was strange wanting something so bad, a sensation she had never known and could not predict, him inside of her, but she did.

She reached down eagerly and pulled his hot member from his shorts. He gasped, froze. She tugged the skin up and down, teased the wet tip with her finger, then she put it on her entrance, brushed herself with his tip.

"You naughty little witch. Playing with yourself." He looked down at her. She did not know if she was blushing because her whole body was already coursing with heat. He took himself in his own strong hand. The sight was so…manly. "Touch yourself." He told her. She blinked. Shy as she felt, it was also arousing for him to tell her what to do. He wanted to watch.

"Touch yourself." He repeated. She felt sexy. She felt appealing. She did so watching his breathing become erratic, rough, his eyes swallowed in darkness, then she closed her eyes, her other arm going god knows where in the madness. He watched. "Merlin!" He moaned. "Stop." The gentlest touch seized her hand. His fingers intertwined with hers as he climbed on top, positioning himself. His eyes bore into hers. It was like he was speaking, but she heard nothing.

And then he was in her, so fast she could not react. Her body clenched, making the pressure and fullness turn to discomfort. "It-it's too big." Surely it was going to tear open despite all the muggle magazine and books that insisted that part of human anatomy expands.

"Sh, sh, sh." He assured her, holding perfectly still, pressing a kiss to her damp forehead, dusting her face and collar bone with light pecks. She needed to focus on other things. She admired his arms on either side of her, kissing his veins, his muscles, the soft skin with an herb and salty taste. She kissed his mark.

"Don't." He said. His voice was firm, darker than the one he'd used.

"I love all of you." She responded. She had not meant to say love. She meant to say or adore or love all of your body. But she hadn't thank god she was staring at his pale forearm. To clarify her meaning, she began kissing the spot, slowly using her tongue to trace the dark serpent.

His skin raised, arm trembled as she began basically snogging his arm. He moved inside of her. The more she relaxed letting her fill her and feel her, the better it felt. His bulging muscle just above his member rocked against her perfectly. He seemed to lose himself then, but she did not mind. His body was rigid with his full strength as he rode closer to his release. She felt it exploding at last.

But he wasn't done with her. For the next several hours it continued until they laid together, she dwindling from consciousness as she felt him dot kisses along her smiling face. She had vague recollection of saying something before about his stamina... At least age was no worry there. She was knackered.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you well, love?" She cursed her heart for jumping at that word. Eyes still closed, she could only nod, sighing contently. He chuckled again, a sound she could feel.

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

"Wake up, my beauty," he said a few moments later, forcing some light magically into the room. She blinked, shielding her eyes. She could feel her hair bout her an absolute mess, a travesty no doubt. Groaning, she snuggled into his warm figure next to her. Arms wrapped around her, and she blinked open her eyes. "Lazy lie about." His deep voice scolded.

"What's that smell?"

"Are you saying I stink?"

"No," she swatted him. "It's…food."

"Brunch."

"Brunch, what time is it?

He kissed her temple. "Nearly lunch."

"What?" She jumped.

"Ah, ah ah." He pulled her back against him, chuckling at her distress. The trays of brunch floated through the doorway towards his hand. He set it before them.

"You're being so sweet." She looked up and him placing a peck on his stern jaw.

"I am sweet." He said shocked. His lips moved against her ear as he said, "to those I love." She tried to speak but her breath was gone. "Let's eat." He said quickly.

"Severus."

He ignored her, handing her a Danish. She stopped. "Severus, you don't have to say that."

His voice was its typical soft, annoyed growl. "I wanted to tell you before we made love but you were rather impatient…"

"I was, wasn't i? I don't know what got into me."

"I can think of one thing…"

She swatted him again. 'you love me?" she forced herself to look up at him.

"Yes." His eyes were still dark and cool, but they were honest this time, not like they were holding back so many secrets they were sinking under their weight.

"I love you too." She said, which she supposed was true, unfortunately.

He pressed his forehead to hers closing his eyes for an instant that quickly vanished. "We need to keep up your strength." He said, shoving breakfast crepes at her.

She moaned a little as she repositioned. "Are you alright?" He said in concern.

She nodded. "Just a little sore."

"Should me to kiss it and make it better?" He joked.

She moaned.

'I haven't even touched you yet.' Pride flickered in his voice.

"Actually, I'm a little sore all over."

"I'll run you a bath." He said simply, kissing her hair as he slipped from the bed.

"No," she stopped him with a mere touch on his arm. "You don't have to wait on me."

He stared at her seriously, knuckles resting on the edge of the bed looking at her through his curtain of hair. "Hermione, I know exactly what you gave me last night, and thoroughly enjoyed every second of it. Now, let me take care of you. Return the favor." Receiving no protest, just a resigned half smile, he went to draw the bath.

Once it was ready, he re-entered, she pulled off the sheets and began to slip out. "Ah, ah." He caught her, carrying her into the bathroom. She laughed at him, throwing back her head. If the boys had any idea…of course they never would but… She nuzzled his neck. "You're so sweet." She mocked him.

He gently slid her into the warm water. He was showing off She let out a breath as she sank pleasantly into the bath. "Care to join me?'

"I can't." He said darkly. "I have a staff meeting." He said it as if cursing. She laughed again, resting her cheek on her wrist. "Enjoy your bath. I might not be back for a while. If you have to go…"

"I will." She said sadly. "Have fun." She teased.

"Naturally." His words dripped with sarcasm.

"Severus, wait."

He frowned. "What?"

"Come here." She said innocently. He did so. She lifted her wet, bubbly arms from the bath and took his face in her hands, kissing him soundly. "I'll see you later."

His eyes just looked into hers for a few moments, so much emotion leaked out, but not a word as he left the room.

She had won. Victorious. Hermione Granger had seduced Severus Snape. She laughed aloud at that. But no, it was not just that. It was more. She had won him over as well. She had accidentally made him fall for her. That was not something even she had factored into her calculations.

For the moment though, she just grinned triumphantly, understanding at last why boys felt the need to high five one another.

* * *

A/N: And that, ladies and gentleman, was the toned down version, edit four. I do hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I know it was a long time in making, but a little tension never made this type of moment worse. One more to go, I believe. Don't forget to review for me, please.

Yours,

Elsie


	40. Wilting

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

* * *

A/N: Happy Christmas!

* * *

Chapter 40: Wilting

* * *

When Severus returned to his private chambers, the differences hit him in the face. First, the room smelled differently. There was her scent in the room, the smell of the bath she had just taken, the smell of sex on his sheets. The bed was unmade, sheets tangled in a hopeless mess. The mattress wasn't even on straight anymore. The dishes had been vanished from the table, and something was wrong with his flower.

The Rose.

He went to it, Hermione's words echoing in his head: _"Does it ever change?"_

No, he was not imaging. Safe inside its case the wide blossom had begun to shrivel onto itself, bright redness darkening, a single petal dropped to the table.

If there were any doubt of his actions, he knew himself now for what he was.

His overwhelming feelings for Hermione did not justify the fact that he had just bedded his former student within Hogwarts walls. And Lily, his Lily, he had betrayed her as well. His feelings for Hermione were more of a betrayal than his lustful actions with her. He had blamed trauma, their common interests, her easy to be around and understanding nature for their growing closeness, but now he had no one to blame but himself.

He tossed and turned all night, trying to understand its meaning. He had vowed his love for Lily would never die. Was it causing the wilt? Or was it his betrayal as Albus would see it since the flower was a gift from him? Or was it Hermione's fate, as everything beautiful he touched turned to waste? He saw Lily's hurt face in his sleep. 'You've forgotten me, Severus. You promised you wouldn't. What is your word then? You'll hurt her too.' He saw Albus too the following night, but he only said what he always did, 'Severus, please.'

When he woke, the poor thing only looked worse. It put his stomach in knots. He could not bring himself to write Hermione. What would he say? Perhaps if he avoided her completely, he could escape whatever he had done. That was the only difference. Perhaps he could bring it back to life.

He forgot to grade his papers so preoccupied he became once the second petal fell. He left class to check on it. It was dying. Wilting. He was wrong. He was so wrong.

Next to Hermione's gifts sat a book of Byron. He chose it this time and found the poet's take much more fitting. "The hope, the fear, the jealous care, the exalted portion of the pain, the power of love I cannot share, but wear the chain."

And he did.

* * *

"You work all the time, Hermione." Ron whined. "You have to take the night and celebrate with us. Harry's been accepted at Hogwarts. He's going to be Professor Potter."

"He's right." May offered. "I'll need help getting everything ready. You know how useless they are with planning." The blonde swung her head in the direction of Ron and Harry.

Hermione had no small fears of being replaced by May. They were great, giant fears, but they were needless. May and Hermione could not be less alike. May was impulsive which led to a strange co-mingling of flirty, tomboy, and sassy. In that way she reminded Hermione of Tonks. But May was always well put together. She was smart though, and brave, and she got the boys; that they had in common. Besides, Harry was not going to be working with her any longer, finished as he was as an auror since he officially resigned, saving Kingsley a headache. Though the public and most of the school were yet unaware, Harry would be the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor next fall.

May still hung close to Ronald, watched him as he played his brother at chess (who was cheating) and even laughed at his stupid jokes, but Hermione supposed that was alright. Ron seemed oblivious. She may have to help that along actually. Who would have ever guessed she'd one day be trying to set Ron up?

"Alright, Ronald." Hermione agreed, pretending to be cross. He smiled shyly.

So planning with May began, and was actually quite fun. They decorated, Luna cooked. The place was covered in red and gold right down to the little shots that looked like liquid gold and glasses of red sherry. While May pulled off a skintight gold number with black bangles, Hermione wore a little red dress with gold earrings and a plain, gold necklace. That ring Rex was so fond of would have been a nice addition, she thought as the guests arrived when they pleased.

"You look nice, Hermione." Neville offered. She nearly spit out her drink.

"Um, thank you, Neville."

He looked into his glass, adding, "I see the bookstore seems to be doing really well. No surprise there of course. I just wanted to say I thought it was really brave, going out on your own like that."

"Thanks." She smiled. She looked up at her much taller, dark haired friend. He was less awkward than he had been and more attractive too in his fitted dark grey suit. "Your Gran must be very proud of you as well."

He shrugged humbly. "Well, yes, but to be honest, I've been thinking."

Harry tapped his glass, interrupting.

"Now that I'll be at Hogwarts where I belong and you all are moving out as well, it seems strange not living together for the first time ever, but I'm also excited to announce I've figured out exactly what to do with Grim." Hermione was moving into the apartment above the bookshop. It was just a little one bedroom with a tiny kitchen and bath, but it was her own, which had never happened before. She had Luna, Ginny, and May by when Ginny was off season to help decorate and have some house warming. She had also invited Fleur who could not make it because of the baby but sent the most fabulous silk curtains. Ron was getting a flat as well with Neville and May.

"Tell us, Harry." Ginny urged.

"For years, Hogwarts students like me, like Riddle, and like Teddy one day have wanted to stay at Hogwarts for the summer instead of go back to wherever we were pawned off. Given everyone lost in the war, I figured I could open Grim as a summer home to those kids who don't have anywhere or don't have anywhere safe to go. It's perfect for them because it's un-plottable, former headquarters of Order of the Phoenix. It's perfect for it because the Blacks would hate it and Sirius, well, all the marauders I think, would be pleased, so I'm calling it Marauder's Haunt."

Harry proudly announced and was met with cheers and toasting glasses.

"Harry, it's perfect." Hermione hugged him.

"Thanks." He smiled. "It just seemed to fit, bring this place back to life. I wish..."

But Music had started playing and people were enjoying themselves. Ron and May were among them, Harry swallowed by admirers, when Hermione had an idea. She switched the song from a fast paced rock one to a slower jazzy tune. She watched as there was a brief moment of awkward pause and then the two moved closer…

"Care to dance, Hermione?" She turned, surprised to find it was Neville who was asking.

"Sure." She guessed. A dance was fine. Neville was gentle and his cologne smelled nice. He was not going to make a move unless she gave him a signal, which she was careful not to. It felt nice just to be in some warm arms that were bigger than hers for a while.

She supposed she should let him kiss her. While she and Severus had yet to speak much in the last month, they had not come to any agreement to see other people. She had more than enough going on anyway what with the magazine, her classes, and the shop. She was often working on editing or articles at the shop while she managed books and inventory, ordering some muggle things like post it notes, monthly planners, and even creating a muggle section with reference and fiction. She was often reading there as well, the place her personal library after hours, on magic book making and publishing. When she was not in class, reading for it, or at Luna's, she was at the bookshop, as Ron had said.

Severus hardly ever sent her anything to work on for him. She wanted to ask why but it seemed strange doing it in a letter. He was too busy to meet her in person.

She did not think he was avoiding her, not at first right after their, well, night together. She did not expect him to turn overnight into a starry eyed, smitten idiot. She did not expect him to change. But she had expected him to, well, talk to her. At some point, even with her hectic schedule she realized it had been some time since she had heard from him. She owled him and his reply was normal and brief—not cold, but not explanatory. She assumed it was her young imagination.

But since then there had been no éclairs, no invitations, nothing. She knew she had pushed that they become more intimate. Perhaps afterwards he regretted it. Or maybe she had not responded correctly to his confession of love, leaving him feeling open.

As time went by and she invited him to Harry's party, but he declined. He was also too busy to have dinner that week.

Her reply had read simply: _"Very well." _

Really, she had not asked him to love her, nor to say it. He need not have made everything so…formal. If he was uncomfortable about it, it was his own fault. It was already a mess, and then there was the article.

* * *

_Secrets of the Dungeons_

_In her latest book, Secrets of the Dungeons, Rita Skeeter will be detailing some of Hogwarts best kept secrets, about the families whose lines were raised in dank cavern of pureblood tradition, little known information about the fallen Dark Lord himself, and even a clandestine love affair between Harry Potter's best friend and a Hogwarts professor. _

_'__It reads as juicy as fiction, but it's all based entirely on fact.' Skeeter explains. __All the facts have been confirmed through various sources and actual proof spotted, which will be in the book. It will detail exactly what we do know about the secret relationship and allow you to fill in every scandalous gap for yourself. _

_'__People have a right to know.' Skeeter says of the privacy issue. 'If a long-time professor has been carrying on with a former student. And all we have is their word it did not start before, when she was just a child.'_

_There's much more, but for that you will have to read the book! Pre-order through Witch Weekly and look for special sneak peak in an upcoming edition of the Daily Prophet._

Severus had burned the paper; it made him feel a little better, at least until he was summoned to Minerva's office.

The Headmistress' face was washed in concern as he entered her office. They were not alone. Apparently she had summoned him to join the four frowning people across the desk from McGonagall, each standing.

"Headmistress?" He inquired respectfully. His footsteps were careful as he entered under the heat of their glares.

"Severus, these parents on the board have called a meeting. They are alarmed by the idea of you carrying on with your former student despite the fact Miss Granger is an adult who can decide for herself. They are –"

Severus uncharacteristically held up a single hand to stop her. His expression lacked any of his typical scorn. A part of him was saddened, but none of him was surprised. He spared a glance at the Headmaster's painting and found he was still smiling, looking directly at Severus over his glasses. What was that old man playing at? Though it was not him not really, he reminded himself.

The potions master spoke at last so quietly everyone had to be silent to be sure to hear him.

"I shall save you from this, Headmistress." He turned slightly to address the sour faces and crossed arms of two sets of witches and wizards. "I will be leaving after this year. Mr. Potter will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. I can think of no one more competent. Good day."

He was gone in a swirl of robes, deaf to any protests. He felt certain his solution was satisfactory to all. He had no idea what he was going to do next, but had a thought: if it weren't for Hermione, he would not have lived to collect his winnings with his Order of Merlin. He would not have won the Potion Maker's award either. So even out of a job after the school year, he had not to worry over how he would eat. Perhaps Hermione's idea about the textbook was more fortuitous than he originally thought.

He stopped in his tracks. Hermione. Idea. Dumbledore's portrait.

He was passing the kitchens when he ducked inside and made the elves freeze as if he'd stunned them. "Winky!" He boomed, having to think a moment and hoping he'd guessed the correct name. The elf bashfully approached, hands behind her back, ear flopping.

"Sir? What can Winky do for Snapes the Great Protector?"

He rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Merlin's beard, you weren't behind that as well were you? Anyway you," He drawled. "Am I wrong in thinking you did not imagine the plot you hatched last year yourself?"

"It was Winky's idea, Sir!" She piped. "Only…"

"Only what?"

"Only Winky had a little help just at first."

"From?" He crossed his arms, demanding deeply. The elf swallowed, ear bobbing.

"P-Pr-pro-professor Dumbledore, my liege."

"DON'T call me that." He softened, holding in a sigh. "Professor Dumbeldore is dead; I should know."

"Well yes, sir, but there is a portrait."

"His portrait…"

"Mentioned Sirs' potion."

"Tell me exactly what happened."

"Winky brought food and drink up and stoked the fire for Master Snape because Miss Granger said Winky should do so. Winky saw Master Snape weeping sometimes, but never when Miss Granger was there." The elf looked at the floor as she spoke. "When Winky brought tea to the Headmistress's office, Winky was asked, Sir, how your caring was going and Winky said as much.

"When Winky was alone in the room stoking the fire, the smiling portrait spoke to Winky, and Professor Dumbledore, who was always so nice before he was a portrait, told Winky Sir and Miss Granger were very good for each other and Winky agreed. Then he said it was sad Sir wouldn't find love even if it were staring at him and Winky was agreeing with him, Sir. And then, my l—Master Snape, he says to Winky: 'You know if anyone was wanting to help them along they might find a love potion in the masters stores and if anyone did find one there it might be the strongest and best because Master Snape was the greatest potion maker in all the w—"

"I see." He cut short the flattery. "Well, then elf, I suppose there remains only one more thing to be done."

"S-sir?" She stuttered.

"Since you are entirely to blame, I must…" He left her in suspense for her meddling. "I must thank you most sincerely for your nosy interfering, you little match-making elf." He extended his hand and shook the tiny work worn one. Winky was too stunned to do anything else or speak, but the moment he turned to leave, she fell straight away having feinted and causing quite the uproar.

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards as he said mostly to himself, "Serves her right."

But Albus had been wrong. The rose was dying …

* * *

Harry Potter appeared in a flash of green in Severus' office fireplace as he had begun parsing through his things and grading bad exams. Before he could get out his sarcastic greeting, Potter had the nerve to step forward and demand: "What the hell are you doing?

"Working." He drawled.

"That's not what I mean." He said impatiently.

"Then what, pray tell, do you mean?

"To Hermione. You told her you loved her. You didn't have to do that to sleep with her. Why would you do that?"

"It's none of your business."

"It is if she's crying to me."

"I felt…I thought I felt certain things for Miss Granger." He said as he walked into his private quarters, gesturing at the younger man to follow.

"Miss Granger now?" The impertinent child interrupted. "What is it? What's wrong with you?" He eyed the flower. "Why do you have that?"

"What?"

"…that…rose?"

"Do you recognize it?"

"No. Well sort of. It's in a muggle fairy tale."

"Which one?" He demanded.

Potter had the gall to smirk. "Did Hermione give you that?"

"Dumbledore."

Harry doubled over laughing until he couldn't breathe.

"Before you die," Severus said as if uninterested. "Enlighten me on which story this is from."

Harry collected himself, but hiccupped. "Beauty and the beast. I've only ever seen the movie."

"_And_?"

"It's Hermione favorite." Severus only arched an eyebrow, crossing his arms in anticipation. Surely the brat was not going to force him to _ask for a story_. "Ok, there's this bookish girl in a French province named Belle."

"You mean the girl is named Belle, don't you?"

"That's what I said."

"Never mind." He flicked his hand as if swatting away a fly. "Continue."

"Anyway, this girl lives with her dad, but he's a nut. Come to think of it, people think she's weird because she reads so much. And she's got brown hair…" He sniggered again but was soon able to catch his breath. "This manly dude is after her but she's not impressed with him like the other girls, because he's a brute. You know."

Potter was not much of a storyteller, but he listened anyway.

"So she ends up in the woods trying to help her dad or something and is almost attacked by these wolves…" He laughed again. Remembering something. "Wolves," He repeated, "but she's saved by this awful beast that stays in a magical castle away from everyone."

His eyes widened, hoping he was not correct as he began to see the connections. His lips twitched involuntarily. Come to think of it, the similarities were a little uncanny. Potter glanced towards the castle entrance. "Towns people are scared of him, because you know he's a beast." He looked at Snape. "Anyway she stays as his prisoner."

"His prisoner?"

"Yeah it's kind of messed up. Point is, the beast was this like handsome prince—with one hell of a library—" He noted laughing at the semblance to Hermione. "So then," Potter explained eloquently. "The prince was cursed by this witch because of something he did…I don't remember what."

Snape rolled his eyes. So helpful.

"Hey it's a princess story, kind of. Anyway, so there's this rose." He turned to the case, "in a case just like that the witch gives him. It's spelled. As Belle lives with him, they start growing on each other, influencing each other, falling for each other, you know. The beast becomes nicer and Belle falls in love with him. But if he can't get her to love him before the rose dies…" Severus' interest piqued, "He'll, er, I think it's be stuck as the beast forever."

"You _think_?"

"Or he dies? No, no. It's he's stuck as the beast. He almost dies because townspeople attack the castle and try to kill the beast. But Belle saves him."

"Because she loves him."

"Yep." He leaned pompously against the table. "Lucky bastard. Sound familiar?'

"Get that haughty face out of here."

Potter was unfazed, crossing his arms against his chest and enjoying watching his potions master struggle.

"I thought…it was…"

"What?"

"I thought I was doing the wrong thing."

"By loving Hermione?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's stupid."

"Thank Merlin I have you here for your relationship advice, Potter." He spat.

"Well, it is. You two are so much alike. You don't hold with any nonsense but you do have a dry witty sarcastic sense of humor. You're both very smart and everyone can see it, but you're also very brave and people don't always notice that at first about either of you. Neither of you are very concerned with things like appearance or popularity, but you are the most loyal people, and you'd do anything for those you love. You're perfectly happy to stay in most evenings, reading, and wouldn't weep to never see another quidditch match."

It seemed impossible, but what Harry Potter was saying was actually making sense. "You're attracted to each other, and why wouldn't you be? You know each other very well, better than most." Harry put down the glass pack over the dying blossom. "I'm failing to see what the problem is unless you're torturing yourself." He turned, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes.

Severus did not feel obligated to answer the dimwit, so the scar-head pushed off the table, continuing to the laborious process of thinking aloud. "I doubt you would let people's disapproval keep you from making her happy, so I'm guessing you're either telling yourself she can do better and you don't deserve happiness or you feel like you're betraying my mother or your love for her. You already did the greatest thing for her you could ever do—save me. She chose my dad, she'd want you to choose someone too."

The truth of his words caved inside Severus like the stone of his fortress tumbling. He felt the tiny pieces falling away to rubble. It was undeniably true. There would have been no future for he and Lily, but if she were alive to see what he had done... Well, she had chosen a bully hadn't she? A reformed bully perhaps, but a bully.

"So I guess Dumbledore knew you'd do this if you ever found someone after the war and when you fell in love with her the rose would start wilting unless you got her to love you back."

"She deserves better."

"Well you got me there. Two problems with that: I don't really know anyone better."

If it was possible for him to physical shove his fist down his throat and squash that swelling feeling of pride at those words, his innocent eyes fixed on him, Severus would have done it. Why should he care what Potter thought of him? But those eyes, looking at him so matter-of-factly. 'I don't really know anyone better.' Merlin.

He might have to sit down.

"Second, Hermione doesn't care much about what she deserves. She usually gets what she wants. And I think we both know who that is."

"How could I ever regain her…whatever she feels, felt for me?"

"I've been apologizing to Hermione for years. I'm practically a professional. Maybe you should start by watching the movie. Though I should probably warn you: it's a musical."

Severus rolled his eyes.

"Come to Christmas dinner at the Burrow. Draco will be there."

"How did you manage that?"

"I'm magical."

* * *

"Not everything works out happily ever after." Hermione said with a shrug as the two sat on the couch at the burrow catching up while better witches did the cooking. Well wizards as well. Turns out Neville was not completely useless in the kitchen. Ginny did not seem convinced. "Let's talk about something else." Hermione proposed.

Ginny opened her mouth to say something, but Harry called to Hermione.

When she approached him by the door, his shoulder dusted with snow, he lowered his voice to tell her: "There's someone outside who wants to speak with you."

She widened her eyes, but he offered nothing further. Knowing it was safe, she grabbed her coat and scarf and stepped out into the flakes. Every leaf, wood post and rooftop was covered in the silvery white like a unicorn. A solid black figure stood out against the night. A tall man in black robes with black hair, his back to her.

"Severus?"

He turned, trying and failing to smile. What was that expression? Appologetic. She crossed her arms, guarding herself against more than the cold. "Why didn't you come in?"

He shook his head. "I know I'm not welcome. I came here to talk to you. I owe you an apology."

"It's fine." She cut him off. She did not want to hear.

"It's not." He said softly. "It's. Not."

"You don't owe me anything." She kept her voice level, thankful for the distance between them. "I don't know what happened, if you're afraid or embarrassed, if I did something wrong or whatever. But it doesn't matter. You don't owe me anything." And just in case that sounded cold, she added, "I wish nothing but the best for you."

He gapped, but remained silent as the wind fluttered through, shaking the icy bushes. She watched the flakes land on her face and hair, her mittens. She wanted nothing more than him to grab her and apperate them to his home. She'd still give the whole Weasley feast to be curled up on him by the fire, she was ashamed to admit.

He was not saying anything. Why was he not speaking? His eyes were just wide like she had taken him by surprise rather than the other way around.

She knew it was going to end this way. It still hurt. It still managed to take her aback, or maybe just disbelief. She turned to go inside, hiding her face in warm familiarity and licking her wounds in private.

"You arsehole." She said, surprised at the anger rising in her. "You total unfeeling git! I didn't force you to say you felt anything. I didn't force you to take me out. You're the one who had to toy with me! You're the unappreciative ass who—who did nothing but complain about me saving you. You said you forgave me!" She raged. "What was it pity? Because of Rex, because of…" She swallowed the bile from humiliation. He felt sorry for her nightmares, the attack, her dueling injuries… She was a project? A charity case. Hermione Granger was no one's charity case. "Well, you and your—your pity or whatever it is…you can just go. Go be alone then! That's what you want!" Her voice was wet, threatening to break. She turned and stomped off, crunching snow underfoot with each step.

It was the only sound. He wasn't going to stop her. He was not even going to try.

* * *

It was ridiculous, it was absurd, and it was the only thing he could think to say, and he had to say something before the receding crunch of her footsteps in the snow took her permanently from his life. He sighed heavily, cringing at his own stupidity as he heard the rhymes ring out: "It came without ribbons." She stopped. He continued, voice as dark as ever. "It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes, or bags."

She turned, incredulous, and waited, her breaths careful, regular puffs.

"Then the Grinch thought of something he had not thought of before..." He approached her slowly. He whispered, his foggy breath giving him away. "I am an arsehole. I'm grumpy and short tempered. I can be arrogant and too quiet at times. I don't show appreciation, and I don't deserve you. That's why you gave me that book, didn't you? I'm a-" He hoped he said it right. "Grinch."

She snorted a little, but he ignored it, continuing. "I don't have a good reason for avoiding you for months. I thought I'd done the wrong thing is all. And I've done that so often...I was trying to do right by you. It never seemed fitting that the thing that would make me happy would be the thing I should do. Feeling anything at all for so long was so dangerous..." The more he spoke the less he felt he was saying. They stood a few feet apart, her dark eyes warm and watery as she held her elbows and thought, the fog of their breaths touching.

"What changed?"

"Nothing." He answered honestly. "I can't-" he struggled. "I can't... I want you. And staying away from you doesn't stop the pain. if I am to wear the chain, I'd like to have sinned properly. It's all out in the open now, and I'll be leaving Hogwarts after this year."

Still she was looking at him as if she were waiting for something. Still waiting.

Teary, she laughed and shook her head, mane of hair swishing. "Did the grinch's heart grow three sizes that day?"

"At least." Unable to wait anymore, he snatched her up in his arms. "I'm sorry my Hermione. I was being a coward. A real beast. Forgive me?" She couldn't answer crying so hard. "Forgive me." He was afraid she couldn't, afraid he'd ruined it again- no, not again. This was different. It was not unrequited love. It was passionate and comfortable.

"I haven't moved, have I?" His own words were tossed back at him.

"You truly are the most forgiving person."

"Watch it, you." She slapped his chest. "You're on thin ice." She had turned again to go, but his hand was trapped in hers.

"Where...?"

"We are going inside."

"Hermione." He warned.

"Severus," Shrewdly narrowed eyes glanced back at him over her shoulder as the famed know-it-all tone made an appearance. "You owe me." Merlin, it wasn't a half bad impression of him the slow, level extraction of each syllable.

He eyed the house, noise emanating from it already. "But it's-" He grimaced.

"Christmas." She finished for him.

He sighed resignedly. "As you wish." And he really would not have gone in at all -really, he would not have- except she gave him this look, this look like she had seen something in him. A look that said, "Ah, there it is." He knew he was in trouble. He knew he was lost. He did not care.

* * *

A/N: I sincerely hope you all enjoyed your holiday and that ending! Remember, all I want for Christmas is to hear from you all, so please take a second to review. I cannot thank you all enough for reading and for all your enthusiasm and support! There will be an epilogue to follow ;) Much love to all of you.

If you'd like to read more, check my profile for more stories or go to bookhoppers . wordpress . com to read an original story of mine. I'd so appreciate you checking it out-won't take long-and sharing or following it. It's about a very dangerous library, a great love of books, a sort of Hermione type character and a few crazy other ones.

Yours,

Elsie


	41. Epilogue

Disclaimer: Please see previous.

* * *

A/N: You all are so amazing for reading and reviewing as you have! Even one guest who reviewed in French- Merci! Ce était mon plaisir. Vous êtes merveilleux. I cannot tell you how much I've enjoyed posting this and hearing from you as it goes along. Thank you, thank you. Do please take a moment to review if you enjoyed the story. Hope you like this brief epilogue! Check the bottom note for more!

* * *

Epilogue

* * *

Hermione looked over the front of the building. It was cute with a tall, triangle roof, some trim falling off in places and cracked one window pane. She couldn't quite see the tips of the castle over the rooftops, but somehow she could feel it was near. Hogwarts had its own sort of current and even a muggle close by could feel the energy when it was close though out of sight.

She did not hear a pop, but Luna appeared at her side sliding her wand into her robes. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and she wore a faint smile. "Hello, Hermione."

"Hi, Luna." Hermione greeted her friend. Then, she took a deep breath and exhaled. Before she could ask her companion if she was ready, a man with a prickly beard appeared, carrying a ring of keys.

"Good day, ladies." He greeted, limping over and opening the empty the building, cobwebs hanging in the corner. "Lumos maxima."

The main floor was big enough for the equipment to be moved from Luna's place and added to in what used to be a kitchen of sorts it seemed, but a partition would have to be added to separate the desk areas and mail station from the receiving office. The fireplace on the main floor was also connected to the floo network so she could hop from the bookstore to here easily, and the place would not be open for general business hours, naturally.

There was a sizable storage room in the basement. "This would be good." Luna said, "for supplies."

Hermione nodded. "We could organize these shelves…"

Both girls quickly agreed the tiny room up the rickety stairs, next to the bathroom, would hold all the bookkeeping, records, and funds under lock and key to only be opened by the two of them.

"We can do it." Luna nodded confidently proceeding to negotiate the rent, to Hermione's surprise. She walked the building again, jotting down her ideas as she listened to Luna's innocent voice lead brilliant tactics. She had learned not to underestimate her Ravenclaw friend and found it a relief not having to be in charge of everything for fear it would not get done. Honestly, she would never have survived had that been the case.

Mr. Welling had managed the daily running of the store with Hermione taking some shifts and managing the affairs. In the past year, Mr. Welling and George's advice, as well as her own classes in business and finance at the local college, had helped her immensely. After more than a year since taking it on, Flourish and Blotts, with its muggle items hidden amongst the shelves, was still going strong. The magazine was not setting any records, but was selling at its usual steady stream.

Luna now wanted to fill her basement with her naturalist collection, and Hermione could not blame her for pursuing her interests. That would be hypocritical. Incidentally, after Severus hasty leaving of Hogwarts, publishing his finished text had gone nowhere. Hermione figured, if she could not get anyone to publish what was undoubtedly the best potions text in the world, she'd just have to publish it herself.

Besides, George had already urged her to make magical versions of some of her favorite muggle book products and had even sold some of her prototypes in his shop. Since Luna had some publishing machinery already, and she and George made some adjustments to muggle technology on bookmaking ordering pieces from home and abroad, Hermione found she was about to open a publishing business, together with Luna.

They had investors backing them of course, since she still owed Gringotts for the bookstore. They were namely: George, who was certain it would be a success, Harry, naturally, and surprisingly Draco Malfoy who had insisted she make him much richer and not waste his money. The new, very small, business would not open for another several months at least, which should hopefully be more than enough time for her to finish her classes on bookmaking, binding, and preservation.

She had done so well though a teacher had recommended her for an internship in document preservation at Oxford library. This complicated things. Some days she sorely wished for a time turner.

Today was one of those days.

The witches had their savings and investor's George's money to cover the rest of the equipment. The pair could clean, repair, and design the place themselves. Harry and Draco's money would also cover the first supplies to be ordered. _The Quibbler_ would be published there, they had decided, and some of Hermione magical planners, "Almost as good as a timeturner"— they had a gold time turner on the front—then of course Severus Snape's textbook. The latter would be sold in the bookstore and through mail orders in the Quibbler. It was really quite convenient.

There were others too, namely frequenters of _The Quibbler_ or Hogwarts friends who were interested in talks of more books, but they were waiting to see how it all went. Well really, since it was no well-kept secret who owned the store now, everyone was waiting to see how it went. For that matter, so was she.

"Well that went quite well, don't you think?" Luna asked vaguely as they walked down to the pub. Papers both girls had diligently read and reread were signed rather nonchalantly with the man who owned the place and smelled like butterbeer. Still, Mr. Bator was cooperative and quiet enough. He didn't ask anything rude like, "Are you sure?" or "Shouldn't I be speaking to your boss?"

"I do. It's a reasonable rate, so we will be able to channel most of the funds back to our investors at first." Hermione surmised. "Shall we meet on Tuesday after four?"

"Sure." Luna agreed easily. "I leave on Friday for Dunlap. I'm very excited. I do think I'm going to find one this time with Creevey."

Dennis Creevey was to take his brother's magical camera, coupled with his own studies in photography, alongside Luna on her latest trip in search of those… beasts. Hermione sighed. "Best of luck. I can only stay for drink." She told her when the entered the Hogs' Head. "For some reason Severus wants to meet me…"

"Oh. That's alright."

"You should drop by and visit Harry." Hermione prodded.

"I may." Was all she got in response. Typical.

* * *

Severus Snape paced a trek into the grass at the old fence waiting on Hermione. She was walking from Hogsmeade, not apparating. He may have to wait longer, he realized, until their actual meeting time. But then he saw her, hair catching the light and fanning behind her in the breeze like the thick mane it was. He nearly laughed at that—what a damn Gryffindor.

Three minutes early as usual, she waved at him. He did not wave back, but did smile a little. A little. He couldn't help it. He tried to smile, but his face wasn't cooperating. He was nervous.

Hermione did not seem to notice. She was excited about her new lease. Hogsmeade was the perfect place for the printing, she told him, and his book would be on shelves in less than a year. She was just certain Hogwarts would require it.

"Wonderful." He congratulated her. He had learned better than doubt Hermione Granger and her schemes. Though she did not brag, the muggle books and products she snuck in as well as the trashy, magical love novels she ordered sold well. Her reference book order system was most efficient; he'd spent more than he should have through it himself. She even did a special reward system for frequent buyers, which helped people who had, say, seven children. There was a long shelf for each Hogwarts topic, the required text and top references and guides included. She also had a great stock of useful household magic, healing, muggle cookbooks, and much more for educating small children. Adventure and Quidditch sections brought in unlikely shoppers. Teen books on fashion and love sold out at bargain prices, especially near start of term.

Yes, he had practically memorized the shelves, waiting so often for her to finally get off so they could go to dinner or for a walk. For her birthday, they had gone to see Beauty and the Beast the Musical, much to her surprise. She enjoyed surprises, she had told him. He certainly hoped she enjoyed this one.

"So why are we meeting here?" She asked, eyeing the moss and ivy covered frame of the Shrieking Shack. He rather liked the green and hoped the ivy at least could stay.

"This is my surprise, my dear entrepreneur." He said, slipping behind her as her arms rested on the fence.

"What's that?" She blinked.

"This." He whispered into her ear, knowing it would give her chills. "I bought it." He said simply.

She wheeled around to face him, his hands resting on the wood on either side of her, his body inches from her own. "Bought it?" She asked, her voice high.

He sighed as if she was really tiring his nerves. She wasn't though. He had not seen the little witch in over a week, and he was desperately bored. He watched her pretty face scrunch as her massive mind somehow struggled to grasp this simple fact.

"This place? You bought this place, the Shrieking Shack?"

"You really are the brightest witch of your age." He said with mock sincerity.

She floundered for a moment, looking up and down.

"You're not the only one that do rash things. What was it you said? 'I wasn't aware I needed your approval.'"

She frowned at him. The little spat about the bookstore was ages ago. The scowl was quickly gone and her eyes wide with wonder. "What about Spinner's End?" At this point, her gaze followed his and returned to the much more spacious house before them in which he had nearly died in his youth then nearly died in again, bleeding out from his wounds not so long ago. It was also the house, he recalled, in which during her youth he had attempted single handedly to save her and her friends from certain death. He supposed to some, it might not seem a pretty place between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, kept to itself on a pretty tract of land. To some it might seem strange to by an abandoned old dwelling known as the most haunted place in Britain. But he liked his privacy.

"I sold that old hovel of my fathers and made enough to buy this place with the land, and have enough left over to make repairs. Redecorating may take some time, but I was rather hoping you'd be willing to do that."

She turned to face him. "Me?"

"Yes, you." He looked down at her affectionately as they were safely alone. "I got it for us, don't you see. You're looking for a new place, and I hate mine. Time for a change, isn't it? Closer to your new business. More…private." He said dangerously, leaning closer. "You saved me here, remember?" His arms were wrapped around her then.

"Of course, I remember. But Severus, are you sure?"

"So sure."

* * *

The wallpaper was really being a bastard. How was he to know it was going to suddenly downpour? Hermione's insistence they use this light green and gold paper so she could keep those poufy French curtains in lavender and he could keep his old furniture had absolutely ruined his afternoon. He smelled like paste, and that witch was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione!" He called, his voice quite clearly fed up, which usually brought her around. "Hermione?"

She was not in the mess of a kitchen; no surprise there, as she still wasn't much of a cook. She wasn't in the bedroom either, and the bed was still a mess from earlier…

The piano she had been repairing was finally sitting in tact in the sitting room next to his gramophone, though neither of them would ever play the instrument, he was sure. Most of the walls did not need paint or wallpaper as they were covered with bookshelves, struggling to hold the boxes and boxes of both their books still littering the hall and stairwell.

He whacked his toe painfully on a particularly heavy box. "Damn!" Examining the offending box, he found it filled not with books but with some photos…of Hermione and her family. A poorly done finger painting of what he suspected was a pink giraffe. A pearl necklace he assumed had belonged to a mother or grandmother was also carefully stored. He had never known she kept all that, though he could have guessed if he'd bothered. He limped over it and two others as if navigating stepping stones.

"Hermione." He called.

No one answered in the halls and the only faces he saw were the ones in frames: a portrait of his mother when she was young, as Hermione had insisted, one of him, Dumbledore, a photo of her and her friends, the Order.

The bathrooms were empty, so was the conservatory at the back which was more dirt and empty pots with a few wiggly vines than anything, still not entirely glassed in, but he shook his head in confusion. She had said she was going anywhere that he could recall.

His dusty basement showed no signs of life among the jars and cauldrons save a big rat he sent out at once and a big black spider in a web he walked into. Only one concoction remained simmering in the giant cauldron she had gotten him for his birthday so he could fill large orders for St. Mungos, Hogwarts, and a few other select customers.

The other rooms were still sitting under an inch of dust, untouched. Sure she was not around, he went in search of a note. "Accio Hermione's note." He tried. Nothing besides a stupid mew of a cat.

He put on the kettle and waited, eyeing the clock. It was nearing tea. This was most unlike her. Agitated, he tried the floo to the publishing house in Hogsmeade and the bookstore in Diagon Alley, though she had promised not to work that day. Both were deserted.

He resolved as the tea cooled and the twilight crept up to give her twenty more minutes before he'd be forced to owl Harry. Then he'd really be cross with her.

Sitting by the fire in his armchair from the school, a matching one resting empty at his side, Severus found his legs crossing and uncrossing, his scowl darkening as the minutes ticked by on the grandfather clock behind him that had been in the place for longer than anyone guessed and was almost as good as new, save some bite marks they couldn't fix at the bottom.

They never spoke of it, of the danger. Most people had begun to act already as if it was gone, most but Harry whose enthusiasm seemed eccentric to his students up at the school. Harry had lived though, and he knew as Snape did and as Dumbledore had, a threat was not gone until it was gone.

He set down his little white tea cup with too much force and strode quickly to the backdoor, pulling his traveling cloak off the hook. He was going to track that woman down and really let her have it. He would raise his voice again, only to hate himself for it later, and she would either protest or look down admonished.

How dare she let him worry so? She would not do it, he argued, but that only worried him more.

In an instant, the door was open and a spray of water in his face making him close his eyes and bump into something.

"Omph." Hermione made a noise, pushing him backwards cuddled against his chest to escape the downpour.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, trying not to trip as he re-entered backwards. She ignored him, her hair wet, brown clumps and water dripping rather cutely off the tip of her nose as she hung up her outer layers with dirty hands. "You're soaked to the bone!"

She smiled at him then, approaching his snappish tone the way she often did; ruining it with a damp hug.

"I've been looking for you." He said, his voice heavy with worry. He pressed a kiss to her damp head.

"I was just planting." She shook her head, trying to unstick a lock of hair from her face. He peeled it away.

"Planting?" He asked, incredulous. "Planting what?"

She shivered, teeth threatening to chatter."Strawberries." She smiled.

"Strawberries?" And he was tasting the spring rain on her lips.

* * *

A/N: Thank you again for taking this journey with me. Sorry for the mistakes I missed. If you're interested in repeating this experience, there are two ways.

1\. Check out my original story about book hopping, that is the dangerous practice of entering our favorite books. If you liked this style, you will enjoy that. I know it's not HP, but please give it a try. I'll be posting it in bits and incorporating feedback, so it should be fun. It's at bookhoppers . wordpress . com. New chapter for the new year.

2\. Vote for a sequel. It may take some time as I'm busy at the moment and will want at least part of it pre-written but since Rex is still at large and I am a bit curious to see what's after the 'happily ever after' (as well as what becomes of Ginny, Harry, Luna, May, Draco and Neville), I'm open to it if you'd like one. Let me know if that kind of thing interests you or not.

I'll miss this. Happy New Year!

Very Truly Yours,

Elsie


	42. Peek

_Good Morrow!_

_You all are wonderful! Thank you once again to all of you who followed, read, reviewed, and favorite-d this story. To those of you who reviewed but have not heard from me yet, my apologies. Things are very hectic at the moment, but I've read and enjoyed them all more than once. _

_I just wanted to give you all a little update. First, this story has been nominated for an award, so please go vote at: double forward slash) _sshg (dash) ficawards . live journal . com (slash) 2957 . html

_That is, go to the SSHG Fic Awards at livejournal and vote for But Wear the Chain, please. Thank you to the person who nominated it as well! So flattered. _

_Second, I have decided thanks to the votes to continue with a sequel. It is currently in the works, and though the first chapter is written, I'm curious what direction you all would rather see it take. Please leave your comments on it in a review. For instance, one direction would be rather action-y/angst-y and the other would have some suspense but less so and focus more on the lives of the characters as they go through some changes. _

_Finally, I would greatly appreciate you all visiting my site for my original story and giving it a shot. It's called _The Most Dangerous Library_ and can be found at: bookhoppers . wordpress . com (no spaces). I think as readers it's something you could all enjoy especially if you liked my style. _

_Finally, how funny is it Emma Watson, who played Hermione Granger, has just been cast as Belle in the new Beauty and Beast?_

_Thanks again to every one of you, and I look forward to writing for you more._

_Yours,_

_Elsie_

* * *

**Oh! And here's a bit of a sneak peek…**

* * *

A few feet away from her sat one of the greatest of men—a man who occasionally called her 'my dear' and who at that moment cast a spell wordlessly to make them some tea. Her cup floated over to her, still steaming.

"Thank you." She said. He made some soft grunt of acknowledgement.

She had every intention of getting off the chaise and starting dinner, as it was her turn- _truly she did_ \- but the characters had just gotten themselves in a delicate situation, and though she had absolute faith in the write at that point, she was at a loss as to how on earth the protagonists would get out of it this time.

"I saw some of my former students in town today." Severus reported.

"Oh?"

"They said you looked much too cheerful to be married to me."

She laughed lightly. It took her a few moments of silence to look up and catch him watching her. She frowned. Had he said something she missed?

Yes, he had said something, only it was more that she had _not_ missed it. The students had assumed they were…married. She supposed she should have been surprised by this, but she had not even noticed.

They lived together in the same house, no home. They were lovers. They fussed over who would cook dinner and rowed over who would be invited to it. He sometimes took her hand in public, and once when they had been at the Weasleys enjoying mulled wine, he had pulled her onto his lap and made her blush a moment. Occasionally, he surprised her with flowers. She surprised him with rare ingredients Luna picked up on her travels.

"Oh." She blushed.

He looked mildly interested then looked away. "Yes. You are rather obnoxiously merry these days."

"So sorry." She apologized. "I'll try to be less happy with you."

"You're happy?" He asked in earnest.

"Of course. Very happy. But I could always leave, if it bothers you." She proposed.

"No need to be hasty. Maybe you could just quit your job."

"Nope." She defied from behind her book.

"One of them?" He tried in jest.

"No chance. You'll just have to get over my happiness."

"I'll endure." He said into his own open book in his lap.

* * *

_A/N: I know it's not much, but I hope you look forward to the rest as much as I do. There certainly are some things to be tied up! _


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